


When The Devil Picks Up A Stray

by callmesenorita



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Angst, Bolder!Hinata, But Not RTN!Hinata, Character Death, Choking, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Dirty Talk, F/M, Fluff, Knotting, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Violence, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:27:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25039990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmesenorita/pseuds/callmesenorita
Summary: Alpha.At her murmur he drew back, fingers curling away from her arms. In a momentary daze she blinked, not immediately understanding she had spoken aloud. She had not experienced such a visceral reaction to an Alpha in years, had believed her inner Omega had been rendered mute.Now that she could assess him properly, she took in the marks on his cheeks; shaggy hair drooping past his ears; slightly tan skin.“Naruto-kun.” She gasped.***Hinata, an Omega, questions buried feelings when she decides to help a childhood friend who has adopted a new persona under the name Menma. Although their attraction is instant he is no longer the Naruto she once knew, and soon enough Hinata is thrust into a dangerous yakuza conspiracy.Yakuza!AU/Omegaverse
Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke, Hatake Kakashi/Uchiha Obito, Hyuuga Hinata/Uzumaki Menma, Hyuuga Hinata/Uzumaki Naruto
Comments: 62
Kudos: 142





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by the Road to Ninja film. I couldn't get this plot out of my head after re-watching scenes from it - this is my attempt to flesh out Menma's character a little...within the Omegaverse...and a yakuza AU :D
> 
> As a heads up - there will be some mild dub-con in this short story. Please do heed the tags!
> 
> Story will be updated every Friday.
> 
> If you have any comments or feedback please do share. Thanks for reading!

Pain’s agonised laugh seemed to clash against the evening hum of Tokyo nightlife. “So _this_ is the power of the Kyuubi. It’s a pity it’s wasted on y—”

He was cut off by the tightened grip around the column of his throat, black spots beginning to polka dot his vision. 

It was that stamina of his; that relentless vitality that kept him fighting, trampling wherever he liked. In another world he might have made a good teammate on his killer squad; with his dark hair and ferocious expression he could even pass as Itachi’s cousin.

He glanced at the beaten guards clustered around them in the alleyway before taking in the heaving of his killer’s chest and limbs. If there was any consolation for this mess, it was the fact that he sure as hell hadn’t gone down without a fight.

***

“Wow. This is a fantastic proposal, Hinata. Keep up the good work and you could be put up for promotion again.”

She smiled, bowing politely before his desk. “Thank you, Kou-san.”

“I never would have thought someone with your…background could be so efficient. It’s a pleasant surprise.”

It was unclear whether he was referring to her primary gender, her status as the disinherited Hyuga heir, or her designation. Regardless, the backhanded compliment did not alter her expression, and her bow remained rigidly formal. “Thank you.”

She continued through the motions of polite small talk with her supervisor, then exited his office, heels clacking as she strolled to her desk to gather her things. 

When she had first presented, Hinata had been an extremely sensitive Omega tumbling into multiple heats each month, and she had often fainted from overstimulation caused by scents. But over time she had come to realise that her designation suited her just fine. She did not have the charisma required to become the next Hyuga head and unlike Neji she was too compassionate to engage in the shady dealings of the subsidiary yakuza business; as an Omega, she had been automatically disqualified from many expectations early on and freed from the pressure she often felt within her family, which took a weight off her shoulders.

Being born a Hyuga had also given her immense privileges others may not have had. As soon as her secondary gender was confirmed, she had been transferred to an expensive Omega-only school, allowing little opportunity to be harassed by Alphas, and by graduation had successfully incorporated an arsenal of tools to help her dissolve into society and live independently. Her heats had metered out, and were now an infrequent disruption in her life, only descending two or three times a year for brief two-day stints.

With a limited social life, she had dedicated her free time to her work, rising slow and sure through the ranks of the accounting department to become deputy head at the age of twenty five. It was gratifying to know that although she would never become the next CEO, she had at least earned a steady life for herself, something that not many omegas could say.

The wind rustled her face mask lightly as she stepped out of the glittering skyscraper, hopping from foot to foot in thought. It was that point in the year when summer was still clinging onto the air, but the chill of autumn was beginning to filter in. Perhaps she could take a stroll home instead of the subway…

She walked down the entrance steps, beginning the walk through the Tokyo after-hours streets. A victim of overtime culture, the city remained bustling with people even at such a late hour, and salary workers buzzed about, impatient to get home.

It was a little chaotic, but somehow calming too. Sometimes she felt like a leaf drifting in the air, guided only by the strength of the breeze. It was as if she woke up each day to kill time; to divert her attention before some seminal event occurred in her life.

***

She had just stepped in front of the alleyway when he crashed into her.

“Ano…excuse me—”

She started, awkwardly trying to hold the tall man upright. She looked down at her blouse, and cursed inwardly when she saw it was now splotched red.

Her arms tried to push him back but he was a brick wall, chest firm and unmoving against her frame. She sighed warily, not wanting to draw attention to herself. The _one_ day she decided to walk home she had to deal with a half naked, injured drunk. 

“Excuse me sir…please….let go of me. You’re injured.”

He grunted in response, stumbling further forward until his nose nudged along her neck, pausing at her scent gland. She felt the air there sweep into his nose as he breathed her in, his own scent diffusing into the air as his chest purred in satisfaction.

Smoke. Sandalwood. His scent was thick around her, making her knees fold despite the fact that she was both wearing a face mask and on premium suppressant medication. It held a certain familiarity that prodded at her, but recognising individual smells were more of an Inuzuka clan speciality.

_Alpha_. At her murmur he drew back, fingers curling away from her arms. In a momentary daze she blinked, not immediately understanding she had spoken aloud. She had not experienced such a visceral reaction to an Alpha in years, had believed her inner Omega had been rendered mute.

Now that she could assess him properly, she took in the marks on his cheeks; shaggy hair drooping past his ears; slightly tan skin. 

“Naruto-kun.” She gasped.

He had grown up. Presented. Shed the baby fat from his face, those distinct birthmarks of his resembling curious battle scars rather than feline whiskers. Where before there had been a negligible height difference between them he was now an imposing, hulking shadow over her form. Though dishevelled, his suit was exquisitely tailored, and she could see its fabric pull taught over his toned shoulders as he struggled to breath.

His silence seemed to convey nothing but vague disappointment. He said nothing as her wide eyes roved over every part of him, quietly questioning his black hair - she remembered him being blonde.

It was the first time she had seen him since the day she had presented in school. Did he remember her? Did he know that she had once believed they were true mates?

Even in his state, he was so guarded she felt unsettled; his flat blue orbs would not give anything away. How much could someone change in ten-odd years?

On any other day she would have shoved the man away and skittered off the rest of the way home. However something in those cold cerulean eyes stirred her foolhardiness.

Deciding to help him, she led him to take a seat on the curb as she flagged down a taxi. 

***

The doctor stood before her scribbling away on his clipboard. She could tell he was an Alpha - the faint smell of burnt coffee tingled at the back of her throat - and he was the type of Alpha who clearly felt omegas were good for one thing and one thing alone. His lips made the shapes required to give an update on Naruto’s status, but his eyes showed dismissal. He must have thought giving her an explanation was a waste of his time.

“Well, he’s resting now, but he only had minor injuries. What he’s suffering from is exhaustion.”

Her brows crinkled. “But there was blood all over him. It even got on me!”

The doctor laughed at her naivety. “Yeah, there was blood all over him. It just wasn’t his.”

She was taken aback. Had he been in a fight?

“Anyways, as you are not his immediate family, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. We’ll take it from here.”

Her lips parted, then clamped back together tight in frustration. It seemed he was going to make her beg.“Look, I know him. We went to elementary school together. Can I please just…check on him? To make sure he’s okay?”

She cast him a long look, hoping something in her colourless eyes would resonate with him. He stiffened a little, then relented with a long exhale. “Fine. You can take a look at him through the window to his room. Just stop doing that… _thing_ with your scent.”

Hinata balked, unaware she had been emitting signs of distress. Just how frazzled had the whole experience made her?

She tailed him as they walked through various wards until they reached their destination. Peering through the glass frame, she could see Naruto in his bed, the various tubes and wires connected to him making him look like food trapped in a spider’s web. The visual did not sit right with her.

She glanced up at the doctor to her right. “How long will he have to be like this?”

“Not long. He should be back on his feet in another day or two.”

She turned back to Naruto, saying nothing. He was making minute movements with his fingers in his sleep, as if responding to their words.

Then he let out a breath, shifting to lie on his left side, and through the open backside of his hospital gown she finally saw it. The intricate head of a fox roaring across his spine against a field of mottled grey clouds of smoke. That tattoo…it couldn’t possibly mean…

“He’s yakuza.” The doctor supplied for her. “We looked into his identity using the wallet we found.”

Her next breath was shaky as it was expelled from her lungs. She could not say she was a stranger to organised crime - after all, that was the unofficial area of focus for the subsidiary that Neji controlled. A yakuza didn’t become a kumichou without breaking a few ribs here or there. What made her apprehensive was that the Naruto she had helped was now a stranger. A stranger who happened to be her Alpha.

She shook her head, hoping the reality check would dull her rising blush. To think she had thought they could be mated! This was above her now; getting involved with the yakuza would be nothing but trouble. “I…thank you. For letting me check on him.”

As she re-adjusted the strap of her handbag, an indifferent look descended over her face. There was no use dwelling on the past, no matter how it nagged at her. “I’ll be on my way now.”

***

Obito scanned Menma’s form. Even swaddled in the cot, his muscles remained tensed in anticipation of battle, hinting at the frightening strength he held within. “I see you’re feeling better.”

Menma merely scoffed, sapphire studs glued to the grey morning skyline outside. 

“They found Pain’s body. Konan and a few other lackeys were heavily injured, too. Good job.”

He paused, waiting for a reply. When he did not receive one he pushed on. “The Akatsuki will be weakened. They won’t be able to interfere in our plans.”

“Aniki.” His voice was crusty with its recent lack of use, and he had to cough a few times to sooth his throat. “The girl…who is she?”

“The one who brought you here?” Obito guessed. He had already investigated this himself; as a potential witness she may need to be dealt with. “They say she had long dark hair and colourless eyes. She didn’t give a name but I’m assuming she’s a Hyuga.”

An itching sensation was beginning to develop at the base of his neck, where his scent gland rested. His fingers yearned to scratch it, but he could not expose himself in front of Obito. He was a perceptive Omega, and the slightest tell would raise alarm bells.

She had known him…from before. He remembered that much. There was only one Hyuga who could make his react like this, reduce him to a shivering pool of Alpha instinct.

He connected eyes with Obito for the first time since he had arrived. He would deal with this himself, the way he had every other obstacle in his life. Even if the voice in his head telling him to claim her as his own increased to a deafening crescendo.

***

_Children were always creative in their methods of torment. The latest game in the Academy had been one designed to filter out those with an Omega designation, and make a mockery of their station._

_Naruto, an Alpha, had been the first in class to present. As such, he had also been the first to realise that something was off about the quiet girl at the back of the classroom._

_She had always been strange, following him around in devotion like a golden retriever bringing back a tossed stick. But now she was even shiftier, self-consciously rubbing her hands over her arms and passing out when he entered the classroom._

_To pick out the Omega, all you had to do was reach out for the nape of their neck, and observe their reaction._

_Naruto waited until they were alone after school, on the final day of their assigned cleaning duty._

_She was a mess: dropping chalk from the board which would require more sweeping, bumping into desks which would require more arranging, skin a furious red that would not go away._

_As she turned to brush yet another broken piece of chalk into the dustpan, he reached out to brush the pads of his fingertips against her soft, ivory nape—_

_His hand stung with the force of the slap she aimed at him. She was panting, flushed, quivering and all of a sudden she was all he could smell. Milk, honey and something musky, particular to her alone, that he realised he had been scenting for some time. Something within him swelled with pride at his Omega’s response. She wanted him, was ready for him. She needed him._

_It was the clang of the broom against the floor that calmed his thoughts and tempered his spreading pheromones. She had run away from him, left the classroom._

_Hinata did not show up to school the next week, or a single day after that. They said that she had presented as an Omega, and transferred to an Omega-only school. Life went on for Naruto._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the support so far!

Shikamaru’s eyes slipped closed as he savoured the flavour of the cold sake on his tongue. A meticulous blend of cantaloupe, lychee and pear swirled around his mouth and he sighed in recognition. It was Tatenokawa Eighteen, a decadent choice indeed. One of the few perks of attending a senior Hyuga meeting.

Reflecting the gravity of the situation, Hiashi himself had come along with Neji to their meeting, but since the briefing began the only sound that had come from his direction was the graceful tinkle of chopsticks as he lifted sushi from the dish before him.

He suddenly sensed Neji was moving on to the agenda item of most interest to him. “A few days ago authorities discovered the body of the Akatsuki member Pain. Several others were found seriously injured, including Konan, commonly known as second-in-command.”

A hush fell upon the room. This would be the latest in a string of strategic attacks that had taken place in Tokyo’s underbelly, their day-to-day work environment. Usually a clan or group would claim these sort of incidents to spread fear or gain notoreity, but so far there had been no leads on who the perpetrators were.

The lack of knowledge was creating a buzz of unrest, and clans were beginning to prepare themselves. It would only be a matter of time before war broke out, and as the senior advisor for the Senju clan, Shikamaru needed to scope out the landscape before setting out a strategy.

Hiashi’s chopsticks clicked as he placed them on a glossy chopstick rest. “Are there any suspects?”

“No.” The tips of Neji’s mane brushed the table as he shook his head. “The police have nothing.”

Shikamaru paused. _He_ had an idea of who the perpetrator was, but he had no proof. Everyone knew the Akatsuki was an independent contract for hire group, so another dead Akatsuki member didn’t mean much to him. What he was interested in was the attacker’s motive - why go after Pain _now_?

His eyes shifted to Neji. His clear eyes were hard, and he looked…concerned.

What a drag. He’d have to drop a breadcrumb in the hopes of getting something useful back. 

“I had someone look into medical records the same day of the murders.” He called out, making the Hyuga men look to him. “Turns out there was a guy who checked in about an hour after the time of death. He was covered in blood, but only suffered from exhaustion. He didn’t have any serious injuries.”

It was Hiashi who spoke up first. “ID?”

“Nothing. They must have been paid off because all the security camera footage was cleared. But I did get a description. Tall. Black hair. Fox tattoo across his back.”

He neglected to tell them that a Hyuga woman had been the one to check him in. If his suspicions were correct, that information would need to be guarded for some time.

“A fox tattoo?” Neji asked. “How many tails did the fox have?”

Shikamaru looked to him, interest peaked. “How many tails _should_ a fox have?”

He seemed to hesitate before answering. “I have heard rumours of a man with a Kyuubi tattoo. As you said, he is tall, with dark hair and he usually wears a mask. They call him Menma.”

“Hn. I have heard of this Menma, too.” Hiashi admitted. “He is the wakagashira of the Shugetsu clan.”

Neji frowned in confusion. “Shugetsu clan?”

Shikamaru explained, “They’re a newer clan, established only ten or so years ago. But they already have connections across Japan.”

Neji's fingers gripped tighter around his cup. “How did they grow so quickly?”

“That’s not relevant.” Hiashi interjected. “What _is_ relevant is what the endgame is. They’re not trying to take over territories, but they’re attacking key players in different clans. Now they’ve gotten rid of Pain. What’s their play?”

Shikamaru chewed his fatty tuna nigiri slowly as he scanned the private dining room lazily, relishing the way the taste coated his mouth. “I guess we’ll just have to speak to the Shugetsu kumichou.”

The glare Hiashi flashed him was accusatory, and he knew that if he gave even the slightest signal one of his security waiting outside the room would step in. Shikamaru tried not to smile at his successful provocation; there was something very satisfying about riling up the ever poised Hyuga clan head. It didn’t surprise him that Hiashi was already acquainted with the Shugetsu. But again, he wondered, why would the Hyuga be involved with them?

He would have to take his learnings back to the Senju compound and reconvene with Kakashi and Sasuke as soon as possible. If there was a conspiracy in the works they had to move quickly, before more hits took place.

***

Menma sent the man reeling with two vicious knocks to the temple, and he crashed into the bar. Turning to his coworkers, he continued to turn on the punishment, dealing a flurry of heavy blows to the staff, never appearing to tire.

One club down, another to go.

“Please…we’ll agree to your terms! We’ll give you what you want!”

He laughed cruelly. That was the issue. They couldn’t give him what he wanted. 

Ever since that fateful day he’d woken up in the hospital he had been sleeping fitfully, unable to find a comfortable position and waking up soaked in sweat. It was like a parasite was crawling under his skin, its pointed hairs scratching at him from inside. His temper had shortened even more than usual, making him irritable and prone to lashing out at whoever was in his firing range. 

He had already intimidated the business owners in this area before. What the hell was he doing?

By the time he walked out of the third club of that evening, leaving a trail of bodies behind him he realised what was wrong. He was entering rut.

***

Obito usually avoided Menma when he was in rut but he could not watch from the sidelines any longer.

“I heard you paid the Uchiha district a visit.”

Menma could barely hear him over the bass of his heartbeat. He tried to form a response from the futon but it emerged as a pained groan.

The estranged Uchiha tried to release some of his own hormones to calm Menma, but it had no effect. Everything about this was strange. He had never seen a rut so intense before.

“Stay here. I’ll be back with help.”

***

Menma rammed himself into the wriggling Omega underneath him, hand twisted tight into her hair. He tried not to think about how her hair wasn’t dark enough, how her body was a touch too slim, lacking slanting curves. 

Even through the fog of rut, he knew he was doomed. While he was forcing her into her fifth orgasm of the day, he had only been able to climax once, and that had been by imagining the strands between his fingers were the colour of midnight, turning violet under the radiance of the sun. 

He had always struggled with the prospect of asking for help, but three days into rut his biology had finally bested him. Rolling away from the heat-ridden woman, he probed his sheets for the casual yukata he had torn away when the Omega had been delivered to him.

By the time he stumbled out of the room, Obito was already waiting for him.

His fangs bit into his lips as he spoke. “Aniki. Find the girl.”

***

Hinata squirmed against the subway door, knees unsteady as she held onto the railing for support. She had gratefully submitted her heat leave request in time to avoid any indecent exposure in the office, and was hoping to make it home before the rush hour crush rammed the carriage with commuters.

This heat had come on strong and intense, earlier than expected. 

Caught between wanting to cool down and wanting to hide how affected she was, she had not removed her face mask on the way back from the hospital. That had been her greatest error; her nose had caught onto Naruto’s scent which lingered on the mask after he had rubbed against her neck. It had been comforting at first, but by the time she had made it home she was feverish, skin shiny with sweat. With her face mask effectively trapping in his smell, she never made it out of the entryway, desperate fingers forcing her pencil skirt down her waist and ripping at her tights to swirl around her clit in urgent circles until she crumpled into an explosive orgasm, her Alpha’s name on the tip of her tongue.

The option of calling her ex-boyfriend, Toneri, played in her mind. He was a Beta, sure, but they had been compatible in the bedroom and he had helped her with previous heats before. However there was a gnawing voice in her brain, pleading for the pulsing knot of an onyx-haired Alpha…

She circled to face the doors behind her. Just four stops remained before they would open onto her platform. On average it took around three minutes to journey from one stop to the next. So she would only need to hold out for twelves minutes, which was one minute twelve times—

As the carriage slowed to a halt at the next station there was the usual automated train announcement, and then the footsteps of passengers moving on and off the train. A thin globule of slick trickled down her thigh and she clenched her thighs instinctually, praying no one around her would notice her heightened arousal.

A tanned palm slapped the glass window by her ear. She frowned, not expecting anyone nearby; wasn’t the carriage more or less empty?

Her breath hitched when she finally noted the smell, heart hammering in her ribs. She whipped around to face him, unable to suppress a gasp in recognition.

“Naruto-kun.”

Like before, he was cold-eyed and distant as he took in every blushing, trembling inch of her. He was so quiet, but she could feel his domineering presence all the same. But his fingers were curious and worked faster than his mind. They whispered against the outskirt of her knee…trailed slowly up her thigh…then rested at her hip crease, treating her to gentle rubs.

He spoke knowingly, emphasising each consonant. “Don’t call me that.” It was as if he wanted her to score this moment into her mind. “My name is Menma.”

When he wedged a thigh between her shaky legs to prop her up and leaned in, her muddled mind had assumed he only wished to take a deep inhale from her gland again. The moist pressure of his tongue against her sensitive gland made her tremble in elated shock where he had barricaded her, and the accompanying concentration of his scent swallowed all thoughts of shifting away.

“You look good like this. Hungry.”

His chuckle was dark as he whispered hotly into her ear. “Come with me.”

It felt like he could see her inner discord, and was daring her to disobey him. She tried to summon words to her lips but she was completely absorbed by him, her accelerating heat rendering her handicapped. Her eyes drifted to the few passengers milling about the carriage, but in a typically reserved fashion they were carefully avoiding eye contact, glued to their phones to separate themselves from what was happening to her.

The doors behind her slid open. His strong arms held her firm, supported her as they walked along the platform and up the escalators. She floated through the barriers, saw the passenger door of a shiny black sedan held open. Then she was nudged into the car, nestled in her Alpha’s lap, where she belonged.

***

By the time she had been bundled into what she assumed what his room, she could barely speak and was hurriedly pulling together a last-minute nest, dragging whatever blankets and pillows she could find to a pile in the centre of the room, layered on top of the doubled bed in a disorganised arrangement that fit her liking. It was Naruto - Menma - that had stepped in to distract her, cool mouth simultaneously quelling and incensing the fire in her gut. 

“Hah…ah..”

She could feel her heart bursting through her chest and his lips running over her collarbones as they fought to remove each other’s clothes. His mouthwatering scent was now so potent she could almost taste the sandalwood on her tongue. It was as though returning to his haven had removed any shackles that had been holding his collected facade firmly in place.

Those molten lips pressed downwards from her gland across the centre of her ribs until they reached the top of her mound. Her legs were clamped together, a useless effort to protect her modesty.

“W-wait…need..bath…”

When he shifted to look at her, glowing red eyes with fox-like slits flashed at her and something inside of her stirred, thrilled she had made him lose some of his control. “Is it embarrassing?”

Under that crimson gaze she could only nod, her hips betraying her as they undulated in his grip. His hands feathered up her thighs to her knees before pushing them apart, revealing her slippery folds to him in all of their glory.

Her attempt at privacy thwarted, that chilling laugh of his peppered the nighttime air. She gawked as those slits dilated until a thin ring of red surrounded burning black pits. “How about now? Are you still embarrassed?”

She was mortified and bewildered, never having _felt_ so much before. It wasn’t a stretch to think there was enough slick leaking from her centre to easily fill a cup. The bed beneath her was drenched, sticking to her fleshy ass and made quiet squelching noises that she tried to ignore whenever she moved. His words had made her hole clench momentarily and she felt her effect on him, the way his fingers dug into her thighs like claws.

He settled down on his stomach to appraise his meal, still looking unfazed. 

His eyes anchored onto hers. “Itadakimasu.”

When Toneri had gone down on her it had been an infrequent, special occasion affair that was pleasurable, but often unsatisfying. Even in the throes of her heat, he treated it like a chore, and expected reciprocal treatment as reward. 

With Menma lapping at her, Hinata found she was unable to thing about anything besides her tortuous need to climax. In a vague demonstration of what would happen later, his tongue thrusted in and out of her channel, spreading the slick that landed on his tongue upward to her clit where he applied suction, drawing throaty moans from her. Back and forth he went, alternating between tongue-thrusts and clit-sucks, until she was unable to tell left from right. Just when she thought she might free fall into orgasm, he stopped entirely, replacing his devious mouth with three fingers which slammed into her, curling to brush her g-spot. 

There was a rhythm to all of this, one that she struggled to anticipate or follow.

“Ah..c-cumming..!”

For the period of a drawn-out groan, she felt and saw nothing, her body numb and sight pitch black. Her only working sense was her sense of smell, and swaddled in his sheets, pinned underneath his hands, she was consumed by the comforting embrace of his scent.

When she landed back on the bed and her toes uncurled from the sheets, she noted the increased wetness of her thighs as well as the taunting smirk between them. Had she squirted?

The elongated suck he took from his fingers seemed to confirm her suspicion. 

“ _Omega_. Hold your legs up.”

“W-what?”

He did not repeat himself and he did not need to; once he pushed his boxers down to free his length, angry-red and beading with pre-cum at the tip she caught his drift. He pumped himself slowly as she hooked her elbows under knees, spreading herself for him.

He was like scorching steel as he entered her, stretching her in the most arousing way. Immediately her Omega voice was tumbling out, saying she needed him, wanted him, _would doanything for his knot_.

Before long his pace had her in tears, sobbing disconnected phrases into his shoulder. “Alpha…Menma…need…knot..”

His tempo stuttered a little, surprised by her brazenness. He pivoted to eye their intersection, and the next thing Hinata knew, he was rolling her clit in between index finger and thumb, watching her jerk and jolt with all the patience of a sadist.

That smoke was coddling her, choking her from the inside out so she could hardly breathe. The coil in her belly was winding tighter at a breakneck speed and out of nowhere she splintered, her ankles jittering against his shoulders.

“Ah…c-cumming…a-agai—!”

He rolled her over in his palms with little patience for her orgasm, shoving her face into the blanket beneath her and pitching her hips up to meet his as he re-mounted her from behind. Each time he rammed into her he seemed to shove something new deep within her, and take a part of her away. She was hopeless, helpless to his whims, and it frightened her that she had never once felt this before, this need to cant up against her Alpha, be good for him.

Hinata had barely crawled back from the edge she’d been tossed over, and her eyes rolled back as she realised she was close to cumming for the third time. His pleased grunts and growls were increasing in volume, and in turn pushing her closer to her own finish line.

His knot was also beginning to swell at the base of his shaft, and she swallowed greedy gasps to work through the ache brought on by the added stretch. Her Omega was elated by what was coming, and expressed herself loudly, pleading to be filled.

Droplets of sweat splattered over her back as Menma leaned close to lick at her scruff. She was barely lucid, only managing little mutters and whines. But she could feel him at her gland, and something in her subconscious tried to warn her of the potential threat—

Pointed fangs broke the skin at her gland. Scarred fingers indented her hips as he pounded in one final thrust, his knot connecting them as he emptied himself into her with spurts of cum. Hinata’s traitorous body rolled against Menma’s silently asking for more.

***

The door slid open, and Obito slid the tray of food to Menma.

“She’s sleeping?”

“Mm.”

He paused, sniffing the air, taking in the blood-red eyes, the mingled stink of rut and heat. “You marked her?”

“Mm.”

“Is this your way of treating a potential witness to your crime? You tie her to you forever?” His jaw moved from side to side minutely, a sign Menma had learned over time meant he was annoyed with him. “You realise you can’t hide her forever, right? There’s no way her family won’t find out.”

“…That’s the plan.”

As the sliding panel slammed closed, Obito made a note to keep an eye on the girl. If Menma was insinuating what he thought, she would not be leaving any time soon.

***

“Water.” He tilted the glass up to her lips for her as she took little sips.

In his worst moments he had been ruthless in his beatings, slept with the most tolerable Omega he could find…but it was the first time he had truly soothed someone’s heat; going beyond physical support to ensure she was well fed, rested and drank enough water. He had claimed her thinking it would reduce whatever it was he was feeling, but it had merely solidified a dependency. The feeling of responsibility made his skin itch.

He couldn’t afford to be tied down by his biology. Not when it put their plans at risk. It was just more convenient to have an Omega nearby, he thought.

***

One hand propping her open, the other curled around her throat, he willed his hips to pump faster from his position behind her. The heat was beginning to wear off - she could now permit longer breaks between intercourse - but that electricity zinging between them was ever present, reinforced by the mating bond. 

Midnight strands brushed his chest as she risked a look at him over her shoulder. That pillow soft mouth was open and drooling in quiet rapture. He hadn’t lied to her before, never felt the need to lie these days. She was most enticing when she was hungry for him.

***

He struggled to contain a groan as her walls rippled around his knot, squeezing another burst of warm cum from him. Dimly he wondered whether she would bear his pups; what they would like, would their eyes be pearly white or cool dark blue—

“Your heat is wearing off.”

She lifted her head from his shoulder, digging into him with those curious colourless eyes. She had matured since their childhood days, but still trusted him like a fool. “Why are you…working for the yakuza?”

His eyes had calmed to their usual sapphire in line with her dwindled heat. He raked his nails around her mating mark absentmindedly, making goosebumps pimple across her forearms. “Why _aren’t_ you?”

Her eyes slinked to the side. “I heard the yakuza is no place for an Omega.”

“…Is that why you transferred schools?”

For a moment, Hinata’s heartbeat stumbled. “Y-you remember that? That was over ten years ago.” She wriggled in his lap, wishing not for the first time that knots took less time to deflate; in a parallel universe she could have turned away and fled. If he remembered her in the academy, did that mean he also remembered what had happened between them?

His nails scratched from the bite to her scruff and back again. “Funny how things change, huh?”

The rhetorical question did not distract from the underlying accusation, and Hinata tried to explain with a babble, “I-I wasn’t rejecting you, I was just surprised! I…could never reject you.”

It wasn’t as easy as he imagined to ignore the pang her words and rising blush caused, but he put up a good fight. The whiskers on his cheeks thinned as he bore his fangs, lips stretching into a predatory smile. 

She couldn’t tell if his teeth were for feeding or protecting.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for the support for this fic! We're at the halfway mark now :)

_He was sitting alone at the swings again. Ever since he had presented as an Alpha he had become aloof and brooding, no longer the blonde jokester that followed Sakura around like a drooling lap dog._

_Hinata watched from the safety of the sunlit classroom. She wanted to show she was there for him, but so far he had seemed to brush everyone but Sasuke off. The two of them had always had some innate fraternal bond that nothing could shake, not even the change his designation had wrought on his attitude._

_He was still in the sandy playground as she scurried out of the school with her backpack sloped across her shoulder. She pursed her lips, feeling determination along her spine thrum like a guitar string._

_“A-ano, Naruto-kun?” she tried, “Is everything okay?”_

_The breeziness of his laugh made her falter. It was a melancholic echo of the laugh she was used to hearing from him.“You’re the first person that’s asked me that in a long time.”_

_She didn’t understand why Naruto was speaking in riddles - it oddly reminded her of her father. “…Does that mean you’re not okay?”_

_When he made no further comment she continued, “Maybe you should talk to your friends. That’s what I do when I’m sad.”_

_“I don’t have any friends.”_

_“H-huh?”she stuttered,“What about Sasuke-kun?”_

_Naruto sighed, shaking his head. “We’re not friends. We’re…”_

_He let his sentence suspend, and she understood as she somehow always had. It was different between him and Sasuke._

_She didn’t let that stop her from making her point. “Well, even if you’re not friends with Sasuke-kun, you still have someone else.”_

_He raised his eyebrow, confused when she pointed to her index finger to her chest._

_The swing he was rocking on stilled. “But we don’t really hang out.”_

_“And we don’t need to if you don’t want to! Friends just need to be there for each other. Right?”_

_She held her pinky finger out to him in promise._

_“…Right.”_

_His pinky curled around hers._

Hinata rubbed her eyes blearily as she was lurched out of her dream, trying to shield them from the light that had been turned on in the room. Her entire body ached from Menma’s onslaught, and she was sure he had left colourful bruises in his wake.

At that thought she tugged her hands away from her face, searching for her mate. Where had he gone?

There was a knock at the door. “Are you dressed?”

She flushed at the voice - it was not one she recognised. Not Menma’s. “J-just give me a second to get dressed!”

There was a sudden symphony of thuds and fumbles as she rushed to wrap a sleeping yukata around herself without regard for whose it was. Anything was better than being dressed in solely her and Menma’s juices.

“A-Ano…please come in.”

A medium height man stepped in carrying a lacquered tray. Before he slid the door closed, his nose twitched. “You should open the sliding door behind you. It’ll help…air the room out.”

She presumed her face must have been comparable to a cherry by that point, and hurried to hide it by turning from him to heed his advice. The door glided open to a wide veranda offering an expansive, near-panoramic view of Tokyo and she took a moment to absorb the way the sun hit the tall buildings in the megapolis below them. It was embarrassing to think she had never noticed the door beforehand as it was merely footsteps away from the bed she had slept in, but perhaps served to show how intense her sudden heat was.

“Where’s Naru—ano, Menma-kun?”

The food tray jingled as he set it down on the tatami. “He’s working.”

Hinata took the time to study her onyx-haired host, taking in the distinctive mottled burn scar that ran over half of his face. There was something in his hard black eyes that was familiar…

“You…remind me a little of someone I know.”

“…So?”

She tried to think of a way to phrase her next question without offending him. “Uchiha’s are known for their distinctive looks. Dark eyes, dark hair…”

To be frank, if appearances were set aside, he reminded her more of Menma than Sasuke. It was his manner of speaking - he was not dishonest, but he was not forthcoming either. It was almost as if they had been raised together, taught how to communicate by the same person.

The man sighed. “What is your question?”

If he had expected to elicit a direct response Hinata was the wrong person for that; too used to avoiding conflict. Instead, she knelt beside him to nibble at her food in graceful bites, hoping the movement would hide her rising nervousness. “What is your name? What can I call you?”

“Just Obito is fine.” He watched her sip at her miso soup, impressed at her ability to slurp without making a sound. Even as a captive, there was no mistaking her pedigree as a former heiress. 

He slipped a hand into his suit pocket, handing her a small foil square. “Take this.”

Hinata eyed the contraception in her hand. She didn’t know whether to bother asking if he was doing this on Menma’s command. She wasn’t sure it even mattered - what _did_ matter was that he was helping her in a small way. 

She glimpsed the time from the clock on the other side of the room. It was impossible to tell how much time had passed, but she had a feeling she needed to get home quickly.

“Has Menma spoken to you about your…living arrangements yet?”

Hinata frowned, beginning to understand that Obito’s pauses tended to preclude veiled references to her relations with Menma. “No?”

“…As of today you will be living in this house, and you will work for the Shugetsu family.”

Stunned as she was, she could only release a staggered breath. “What?”

“It’’s too soon for you to leave at the moment. We have already terminated your rental contract and moved your belongings here,” he indicated to the sliding door to his right. “That door leads to your walk-in wardrobe…”

He trailed off as the Hyuga began to hunch into herself, her trembling wrist causing the chopsticks in her hands to clang against the rice bowl she was palming. It was like being back in the Academy again, and she felt herself turning numb in a naive effort at dislocating herself. In the midst of her panic attack her scent was turning sour, and his pores instinctively reacted, sending a soothing aroma her way. 

She seemed to come to life then, snapping her head to stare at him in disbelief.

“You’re an Omega?!”

It was common for people to be surprised; very few Omega worked in the high ranks of yakuza families. As far as Obito knew, he was the only Omega headquarter chief in Tokyo.

“Yes. That’s why I was assigned to watch over you. Anyone else may have assaulted you by now.” _And then probably have been mauled by Menma._

Hinata thought back to her last conversation with the Uzumaki. Had that been why he had completely disregarded her comment on Omegas in the yakuza? 

“How…” she hesitated over her following words, “How do you…deal with your heats? Isn’t it dangerous?”

“You managed in your own nine to five, didn’t you?” he intoned. His offhand mention of her job was like rubbing coarse salt in a fresh wound; she was still thrown by the fact that she was being asked - coerced - into abandoning the self-reliant life she had built for herself. Perhaps she deserved it for jumping to conclusions about him. She knew that not all Omegas fit the weak, dependent stereotype from personal experience. She also knew that Omegas could assimilate. 

Picking up her chopsticks, she picked at her food over the next few minutes, humbled by his jab. Although she could not tell what his specific role was in the family, the sharp cut of his suit implied a high rank. It would not have gone unnoticed that an Omega Uchiha was a senior ranking yakuza - and yet she had never heard of him. How had he hidden his designation from them? Or did they not know of him at all?

She could feel him watching her every movement and felt self-conscious in the way she chewed and swallowed the last few morsels of grilled salmon. She hoped he did not know that she found him suspicious. It would not do to have what was likely the only other Omega in the vicinity as her opponent if she was to regain some semblance of control over her life. Hinata had spent a lifetime following people’s backs and knew what to do whenever things went sideways. She needed to watch him carefully, gradually pull at his jenga blocks until they toppled over.

His eyes flicked over her mostly empty tray before briefly meeting her own as he stood up. “I’ll show you where the bath is.”

Tired and weakened by her heat, she relented, standing to follow Obito out of the room.

***

On her return, she glanced around the bedroom, able to appreciate it better without the agitation of heat. The interior design appeared to be a modern homage to the traditional Japanese home with latticed fusuma in blonde woods, soft-hued furnishings and minimalist decor.

The large bath Obito had guided her to was similarly simple and stylish, its deep grey tiles giving the traditional combined bath and shower fitting a contemporary hotel-like finish. As she had melted into the square-shaped tub, the temptation to will away all that had happened over the course of a few days was strong. She had bumped into Naruto - now a yakuza called Menma, started an unexpected heat, spent that heat with the aforementioned yakuza, and consequently become his mate.

Then there was the small matter of her confinement. With a shocking speed, she was being integrated into the Shugetsu family without her consultation. Was this all they expect her to do? Eat, bath and…keep Menma occupied?

Taking a seat before the sleek wooden desk next to their bed, she brushed her long hair aside to rub the tip of her index finger against her mating mark. The longer she stared at it, the more it grew to resemble a circular chain rather than a ring of teeth.

It was dark now, and the stars twinkled against the thick blanket of night sky. Earlier, Obito had met her pressing questions with silence, only instructing her to use the phone on her desk to contact housekeeping if she needed anything. They both knew that no one on the other end of the line would give her the answers she needed.

A rummage around the bedroom and the adjoining spaces had surfaced nothing additional to help her. She had uncovered her handbag with her suppressants and birth control, but her phone had vanished. They had cut off her only means of outside help.

The neon light of the sole clock in the room blared the time: eleven thirty-eight. Menma had not yet returned. Would he return at all? How would he behave, now the heat had passed? She could only remember mere flashes of the experience - the explosion of pleasure as their mating bond was consummated, the softness of her nest - aside from the day prior when they had held a pseudo conversation. 

Hunger was not eating at her, but tiredness and dejectedness certainly was. If she was to confront Menma about what the hell was going on she needed to have her wits about her as a line of defence against his addictive scent. 

She trudged over to the low bed, briefly marvelling at the way it sank to map the contours of her body as she stretched beneath the crisp white sheets. In a matter of minutes she was asleep, head lolled to the side.

***

Several hours later, it was the spicy smell of burning tobacco wafting in from the veranda that woke her up. She had always been a gentle riser, and did not stir for some time, eyes blinking open and closed in a slow rhythm as she tried to decide whether sleep was worth striving for again.

“Hm. I’ve found a more…long-term solution to that.”

She tried to level the rise and fall of her chest. Despite the distance between them, she could feel and smell him. He was agitated.

“Is this another one of your tests?”

Over her shoulder she saw him standing under the cool moonlight, shirt rumpled as it had been the day they had reunited. He had been fighting again, only it was clear his latest opponent had not fazed him as much as the last. Only his clothes were stained red, the skin she could see was smooth and unmarred, and his posture was assured.

Behind him, reaching across the veranda and into their bedroom was his shadow. Her upturned eyes widened as she stared, dumbstruck at the monster as it jerked and snapped its pointy teeth. She rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand, refocusing on Menma’s shadow. Just now, did she see the silhouette of a fox?

Words clustered in her throat, and she whipped to face away from him, panicky and terrified. _What the hell was that? And why was it so hard to look away?_

Her pulse was calming, but her thoughts were speeding up. _So that was what a real yakuza looked like. Did Neji have a shadow like that, too?_

“I’ve known you for ten years. I’m your wakagashira. But this is the first time you’ve asked me to lead a meeting on my own.”

_…Menma was the wakagashira?_

“Whatever.”

Menma sighed as he cut the call, more tired by the effort to clear his lungs than the meetings he had had to attend that day. Although he had gotten away with claiming Hinata, it was evident that kumichou would have his head if he made another false move.

He sniffed the air once, twice. Hinata had heard everything, he was sure. No matter. Her presence in his bed alone meant it was too late for her to stop the events already in motion.

A few strides later he was at her bedside, watching her pretend to sleep. She was a good actress, well practiced, but he could see the slight shudder of her fingers, the too-stillness of her eyes.

He let himself push dark strands away from her face, threading his fingers in the thick hair at her nape. His thumb circled her mark gently and he saw the relief in her soothed fingers. All at once his own gland was throbbing. He didn’t need her, he told himself, but he _wanted_ her, craved to make her his again.

Hinata tried to sigh quietly as he padded out into the hallway, leaving her in temporary peace. He had made her wet again, coaxed the slick out of her without even trying. It was almost impossible to tell that she had once felt like an independent Omega able to rise above her biology; every touch from Menma pushed her further into a submission that was impossible to fight.

Even though she couldn’t understand this new version of him, she wanted to on her own terms: that was how her infatuation had started all those years ago, in the Academy. She desperately tried to recall his hypnotic scent that had calmed her so quickly it had made her drowsy. Smoke. Sandalwood…

***

“Can I leave the house?”

“Escorted? Of course.” Obito replied, not looking up from his documents spread across the dining table.

Hinata eyed him over her breakfast. It was the first useful tidbit of information he’d given her all morning.

“Can I go to work?”

He looked up at her briefly, then back at the papers. “You should probably speak to Menma first.”

“Can I have my phone back?”

The papers rustled. “I don’t know where your phone is.”

Annoyingly he did not explain further. They had hit another dead end. Every time she thought they were building a kinship that helped her feel at home, he said or did something to remind her of her confinement. It made her feel restless and unequal; effort had been made to help her find comfort in the beautiful, modern home, but Menma and Obito, the only people she had seen in the last week, seemed to treat it like a hotel, a temporary convenience. What was it they were waiting for?

Earlier she had woken at the crack of dawn to find herself alone, but the depression in the pillow next to her and the warm scent milling in the air told her that Menma had left recently. It seemed they were like two sailing ships, purposely avoiding each other in a tiny port. The growing distance had not been able to rattle her for long as she had ambled out of their room to find an opportunity to find out what was happening in the form of a stoic Obito.

Obito tapped his pen against the table in thought. “When was the last time you spoke to Menma?”

“It was…during my heat.”

He lay the pen against the polished wood then looked at her mutely, long enough for her to blush a little and break his gaze, looking out at the floor-to-ceiling view of Tokyo by day. Another expansive veranda to mock her detention.

“You’re afraid of him, aren’t you?”

The effect of his question was visible and immediate, and she resented the way her fingers tapped together. What she had felt the night before was not exactly fear, but more of an alienness towards Menma. 

“It’s like we’re two strangers starting from scratch,” she shrugged helplessly, “He’s nothing like Naruto.”

Obito smiled as if she had told a joke. It was the first time she had seen the man smile. “Maybe he’s changed.”

“Maybe something _made_ him change.”

The taunting smile thinned at her quip, but Hinata saw something like respect cross his inky eyes.

Respect was good. She could work with respect.

By the following morning she had noticed an elaborate routine begin to play out between the three of them, designed to limit Hinata and Menma’s interactions with each other, whilst maintaining the strength of their bond so as to avoid any implications for their health.

She never saw him enter or leave the house. She never heard any further phone calls. However the indent in his pillow and his settling scent were always present when she stirred.

Between herself and Obito, though, there was a tangible shift in their rapport. He seemed to move from simply tolerating her, to accommodating her conversations and interests, going so far as to arrange for ingredients and books to be delivered so she could bake her favourite cinnamon bun recipe and read before bed. It helped her feel that she was taking tentative steps towards a new normal.

After cleaning up another dinner with an empty dining chair where Menma should have joined them, her unlikely ally emerged from the kitchen holding a large glass bottle in one hand and two sake cups in another. 

“Drink? You look like you need one.”

She accepted with a grateful nod, arranging the glasses on the low coffee table to pour a round for them both. It was strange to be drinking with one of her captors, and she wondered what Neji would say. 

“Ano…Why are you being nice to me?”

His fingers toyed with the rim of his glass once he was seated across from her on the floor. “Do you really think I’m nice, or do you just think I’m better than Menma?”

Instead of replying, she drained her glass hoping to temper the rising heat in her cheeks. Obito had hit the bullseye, and celebrated with a smirk as he poured them both more sake. “Besides, if you’re joining the family we might as well get used to each other.”

Hinata looked her bodyguard over, then after a generous sip of sake asked, “Then why don’t you tell me how you got your scar?”

She heard him huff. “We were caught in an ambush. When they separated me from my team they burned me. A lot.”

His words were simple but deserved serious scrutiny. “You had a team?”

“Yeah. I’m sure you’ve figured it out already - I used to be a part of the Uchiha clan.”

There was no easy way to swallow this admission, even though it merely confirmed what she had assumed. “So why did you leave?”

Obito threw back his cup and filled it with more sake. The alcohol was helping him unearth those memories, memories he rarely had a chance to revisit these days.

“My best friend fucked me over.” He rubbed the rim of his cup before glancing at the Hyuga who seemed to be waiting for him to continue. She had a gentle, unobtrusive nature that made her easy to talk to. “You know, you kind of remind me of someone I used to know, too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, her name was Rin.”

The name didn’t ring any bells, but there was a warning in his use of past tense that she could not ignore. “What happened to her?”

“…She was murdered.”

She sighed heavily at his blunt remark then looked to the side. Somehow, the direction their conversation had taken reminded her of speaking to Naruto in the playground so many years ago.

“I’m sorry, Obito-san.”

Obito gaped at her openly, then realised what he had done and clamped his jaw shut. Then he barked a laugh, shaking his head. “Crazy how long you can go without hearing someone apologise.”

She sent a sympathetic smile. “I know.”

Whilst the Hyuga and Uchiha toasted and drank on the living room floor, Menma, acutely aware of the unbalance his cold-shoulder had caused, silently grappled with the prick of guilt he felt, masking it with more collections, work and praise from his kumichou.

He had made a good amount of money from the latest rounds that night, and finding nothing else to do decided to meander back home to sleep as long as he could without having to speak with Hinata. His cowardice was driven not only by guilt it seemed, but also a fear that she would be the one to turn him back into the weak dead last he had left in the dust many years before.

But when he arrived home, he came across Hinata drooped over the coffee table, a tipsy blush on her face.

That they eventually come into contact was no surprise - he had always held that possibility in his mind, despite his best efforts. What he had not anticipated was her inebriation, or indeed Obito’s involvement in it. Said Aniki was passed out on the beige sofa, blissfully ignorant of the death glare Menma was sending his way.

His molars ground against each other. What now?

Hinata was letting out soft snores through a tangle of long black hair. He should leave her there, sleep alone and slip out in the morning before she had a chance to crack their piercing eyes open.

He walked past the couch, through the hallway to their room…then circled back with a hiss to the living room to lift her bridal style back the way he came. He was strong enough to carry her without breaking a sweat but he felt weak in the face of her temptation, her mere presence. Despite everything he’d tried to change about himself in an effort to grow stronger, she was a reminder of his emotional vulnerability.

As he prepared to lay her on the bed below him, he jerked as his eyes met sparkling jewels. 

He watched her drag her hands over the planes of his chest before hooking behind his neck. “I want a kiss. From the _real_ you.”

The crimson spread across her face was hard to miss. _Was she still drunk?_

“Who do you think was kissing you before?”

She licked her lips. “That was biology. I want _you_.”

The sensuality of her gesture mismatched the intrusive nature of her words and he suddenly wasn’t so sure she was drunk after all. He tried not to groan. “If I kiss you, will you go to sleep?”

Her shiny lips stretched into a grin and she leaned up to meet him in a deep kiss that made his head swirl and stance shake. Her tongue rubbed against his in soft strokes, enticing him to just…let…go.

He pushed her into the mattress as he surged forwards, pressing his clothed length against her centre in slow maddening rolls of his hips.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

He could feel her tremble beneath him, the stiffness of her nipples against her shirt.

“Do you have any idea what I’ve risked to have you here?”

He could feel her sticky wetness with each grind of her hips.

He leaned in to lick her gland. “Do you have any idea how much I…”

The sting of her canines was his only warning as she sank her teeth into his gland. 

Menma froze as she pulled back a haughty expression. “Payback.”

It was nowhere near payback, but it was sobering all the same. He brushed away, stumbling towards the bathroom in frantic steps. 

***

Hinata poked Obito’s shoulder, hoping gentle persistence would help her cause. “Ne, Obito-san, why don’t you take me to the Shugetsu office?”

“I can’t. I told you it isn’t safe.”

Confusion racked her. “But I thought you said I would be working for the Shugetsu family?”

“You can work just fine from here. Didn’t you work in accounting? Here, take a look these papers for me.”

She didn’t want to look at any stupid papers. It was the third morning in a row she had woken up alone, only this time she had foggy memories of Menma, a killer headache and the faint taste of blood in her mouth. All she wanted to do was get out of her cage and find a way home.

Quickly tired of their contest, Hinata returned to the bedroom with quick steps, fuelled by a desire to get back her independence, her sense of achievement, her _life_. In a few days she had gained Obito’s trust and Menma’s damning absence. They had showed their hand. It was time she showed hers.

She began by tearing apart the walk-in wardrobe Obito had pointed her to the day before for the first time, where she found her handbag, her suppressants and the clothes she had arrived in…as well as her entire wardrobe from her apartment. She had pulled at hangers, noting the additional high-end skirts and dresses she would never have been able to afford on her own humble income with a raised brow. So far, Menma had not struck her as the exceedingly generous type. For all she knew, this form of bribery may have been the Uchiha’s idea.

Stepping out of the side room, she looked around the still, quiet bedroom. She tried to think of all the action films she had seen in the past that featured hidden safes and items. Nothing was hidden under the bed or mattress. The bathroom had turned up empty. The wardrobe offered no clues either. That only left the long desk, and she had already studied the void drawers a number of times.

Strolling to the aforementioned desk she stroked it, trying to find some inspiration in the lines of light wood. Then in a flash of anger, she slammed her palm on the wood—

Revealing an unexpected reward: right below the desk a hidden compartment dropped open, where her mobile phone lay looking exactly as she had seen it last. The battery was almost fully charged, as if it hadn’t been used.

She was so excited she barely registered her fingers moving over the shiny screen.

_**Caged bird**_

The swooshing sound of her message being delivered reminded her of where she was, and how much trouble she would be in if she was caught. She carefully shifted to the wardrobe, sliding the door shut behind her and sitting in the corner furthest from the door so she could observe approaching shadows and disguise the sound of notifications.

Her phone hummed in her hand. _Where are you?_

_No time to explain. Can you get me out of here?_

_I can’t track your GPS - it must be blocked. Can you find a way to get to 100?_

Hinata bit her lip, thinking. _I’ll try. Will update soon._


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol. Apparently I've been writing more and more with each chapter? Looks like consistency means absolutely nothing to me :D
> 
> Enjoy as usual!

Obito’s hand fell away from her forehead.

“So? Can I go to see a doctor?”

In a moment of cool suspicion he watched her, trying to weigh the risk of letting her leave with the possibility of something being actually wrong with her. It was not unheard of for Omegas to experience health complications as a result of heats, and the intensity of her recent heat could be a cause of concern.

He could not smell anything off from her scent, but could he bank on his scenting ability alone?

If he did take her to a clinic, taking her to her current doctor would be out of the question. So would any of the off-licence clinics, which were typically run by the Senju. That only left…

“We can go to Orochimaru’s? For…privacy?” Hinata suggested.

A compromise, but one he could agree with. Orochimaru had a small clinic focused on secondary genders, and as someone with an interest in research that would fail any standard of medical ethics, held no allegiances with any of the families around town. He assumed the chances of her slipping away would be low, especially since he would be escorting her.

Thus with little opposition, Hinata scurried away to get ready, and returned dressed in a chic black skirt and jacket combo, detailed with gold trimming around the end of the sleeves and its pockets. It was a little flashier than her usual style, but she figured she would need the courage to pull off her unlikely escape. The hot towel on the forehead trick was one of the oldest in the book - it was surprising Obito had bought it at all. 

Before leaving the room she had sent one last text confirming the plan was a go, then tucked her phone - notifications on silent this time - into the waistband of her skirt.

Obito looked her up and down when she returned to the lounge area, catching the shiny heeled pumps dangling from two forefingers and the silk scarf tied around her neck. “You’re sure you want to go with me? Maybe you should wait for—”

“I’m sure.”

It occurred to Hinata that being so close to departure was making her impatient, rude. But she longed for the moment when the bars of her cage would stretch open, and could not wait a second more.

He drew from his seat on the large couch with an exaggerated sigh, and she trailed the path he tracked to the door. Once outside she could see the house behind her was nestled in an elaborate arrangement of forestry. It should have made for a sanctuary for relaxation, but as they drove out of the barred gates and down the private driveway - in a black sedan with _cream_ seats this time, not matching black - she felt capable of drawing her first full bosomed breath in a long time.

She scrutinised the black hair she could see above the headrest in front of her, reverting to simple conversation to hide her nerves. “Obito-san? What’s your role in the Shugetsu clan?”

“I look after the business side of things.” At her request he clarified, “Accounting, legal, operations…”

“What about Menma?”

He gave a short, abrupt chortle. “He covers compliance.”

As expected, he was the muscle in the group. So who was leading the strategy? The way Obito spoke of him, their leader was pulling the strings from a separate, secluded location. Then there was the phone call she had eavesdropped on, too. It wouldn’t make sense to call Obito if they were sleeping in the same house…

“…Did you always want to be headquarters chief?” she asked.

Surprisingly, he bent to her whims and replied, “Once upon a time, I wanted to be a clan leader. But when it comes down to it, it’s not just about how successful you are, it’s also about how supportive the people around you are.”

The statement resonated with her; she had often contemplated what may have happened had her own support system been more robust. Would she have been accepted as the Hyuga heiress? Could she have been stronger? Strong enough to resist Menma’s advances on the train?

Through the tinted window, she could see the buildings grow familiar as they neared Orochimaru’s office. She may not have had the right conditions to become a Hyuga heiress, but she had built a good network over time to serve her needs. She could only hope she was doing the right thing by relying on that same network to pull her out of her current predicament.

***

The tattoo parlour was the same as she had remembered from her visit with Neji so many years ago. Sombre, clinical and creepy.

Orochimaru was in the middle of returning one of his many pet snakes back into a glass vivarium when they walked through the door.

He stilled when he noticed Obito, but smiled cheekily as his eyes met Hinata’s. “Nice to meet you, Hyuga-san.”

It wasn’t her first time at the underground clinic, meeting him. To pretend that it was meant…he maybe knew what she was really there for. It meant he could help.

His pointed eyes slid back to Obito’s, no less entertained. “I’m guessing you didn’t come all the way here for a tattoo?”

“We’re here for a check up - she has a bit of a temperature.” Obito said.

“Such a shame. I would’ve loved to mark your skin myself. I haven’t seen a canvas so clear in some time.” Orochimaru smirked in a sing-song, looking the very opposite of disappointed. He tilted his head towards the stairs that led to his basement clinic. “This way.”

They followed him down the gritty stairs to a simple room with an examination bench and desk, Hinata praying throughout that Orochimaru would not hijack the situation to serve his own needs. The stories of his experiments on newly presented children had echoed even in the walls of the Hyuga compound, particularly after Sasuke’s brief defection to train under him as an apprentice.

Orochimaru flicked his lips with a long pointed tongue before he spoke, “It’s possible that your body is still getting used to the changes that have come with your bond. Usually mates adapt immediately, but there are times when the transformation is more…gradual.”

“You’re saying her bond might be making her sick?” Obito asked. “That doesn't make sense. I thought the sickness and irregular heats only happened if bonded mates were separated for an extended period of time? She has daily, physical contact with her mate. We made sure of that.” 

Orochimaru’s gaze settled on Hinata’s as she shuffled onto the crinkled examination bench. “Have you had any strange visions or dreams lately? Perhaps something connected to your mate?”

The thought of the canines she had seen stretched against the floorboards made a crease appear between her brows. The damning irony of faking an illness to run away and being diagnosed with an illness as a result was not lost on her.

“I thought saw his shadow but…it was all wrong. It looked like a fox.”

“Interesting…”, Orochimaru’s smirk stretched wide. “As you probably know, thanks to medical advances the intensity and significance of bonds has reduced over time. However some ancient texts speak of symptoms following a bond that today’s medical community would call unusual: insomnia, intense glandular pain, _hallucinations_. In every case, these texts will make a reference to what are often called true mates.”

Indifference was difficult to maintain at the best of times given the nature of his job, but at that moment Obito was thrown. “True mates? I thought both partners needed to bite each another to have a true mate bond?”

Orochimaru seemed to regard Obito’s cluelessness as analogous to an ice cream on a hot summer day: equally delicious and satisfying. “And you _have_ bitten him, haven’t you Hyuga-san?”

Hinata’s resulting meep, full body flush and shrivel inwards was answer enough.

Obito could feel his jaw wind tighter as his gaze moved from the Hyuga to Orochimaru. “So what does this mean?”

“Well I can tell you that they will be able to sense and smell each other at a greater distance, but beyond that it’s hard to say - every pair is different.” A rattle sounded from the desk he stood behind as he began working through its drawers. “I can only think of one other pair like this but I doubt that gloomy boy would ever let me anywhere near his mate.”

Pulling out a small plastic cup from the desk, the part-tattoo-artist-part-doctor turned to her. “Start by filling this cup.” He pointed through the door they had just swept through. “The toilet is the last door at the end of the hallway. I’ll run some tests once you’re done.”

He tugged her back by her wrist before she walked off, shoving a bottle of water into her palm. “Take some water too, in case you need some…assistance.”

She could feel Obito’s frown even without looking at him, but Orochimaru was perplexingly relaxed. 

“There’s no need to worry,” he explained, “Once she’s done, the test should only take a few minutes.”

Obito grunted but said nothing more, eyes glued to her as she began to sip at the bottle. Once satisfied it wasn’t drugged and she was not showing any adverse effects, he took a seat by the desk to address some of the emails and texts he had missed.

Bottle halfway finished, Hinata was lowering her arm when she noticed words written on the inside of the plastic label. _Blue door=100._

The words were unequivocal. Orochimaru was helping her escape, buying her some time.

She pursed her lips, thinking of what to do to not be suspicious.

“I’ll just go finish this in the bathroom.”

Obito gave a small “Hn” without peeling his eyes from his phone, and she tip toed away with her handbag over her shoulder, feeling a cold sweat begin to break out across her hairline.

The hallway was poorly lit and just as grimy as the stairs, but eventually she reached the end. The bathroom door in front of her was black. A blue door was to her right.

Her fingers curled around the doorknob. She opened it, finding a long winding staircase. Tucking the bottle into her handbag, she sped down in a flurry of steps, never looking up at what she was leaving behind, never hesitating. Half a minute later she was in what looked and smelled like the entrance to a sewer - a place only Orochimaru’s clinic could be so easily connected to, she supposed.

She ripped off the label of the bottle, searching for further clues but it was blank, only reading what she had seen before. _Blue door=100_.

This was another blue door, she suddenly realised, this time ahead of her. She turned the round handle.

A comforting smile that diminished the warm stench of waste around them. A bun on either side of her head. Hinata felt her eyes prick.

“Tenten!” she whisper-shouted, keenly aware that Obito was still only a few minutes away.

“I should have never told you guys that ten times ten equals a hundred when you were in the Academy.” Tenten’s voice was a little muffled as their arms grasped tight around one another. The wafting odour of her sesame and neroli pheromones tickled Hinata’s nostrils, an instructed solution for any Omega in trouble.

But Hinata discovered Tenten’s Alpha scent was not comforting her the way Menma’s had. On the contrary, she was beginning to feel nauseous.

Tenten pulled back, missing the wooziness in Hinata’s eyes in her haste to explain. “I’m gonna take you straight to Neji, okay? You’re safe now.”

***

When Tenten had delivered his cousin to his top-floor office Neji hadn’t expected to feel so unsure. Sure, his hands had been full in recent weeks, but as a senior yakuza leader, time spent with Hinata had always been a little slice of peace in what felt like a daily war.

He analysed her in silence, noting the expensive accessories he had never seen her wear before, and her unsettled calm despite her slight sheen of sweat on her skin. “That’s a nice scarf, Hinata-sama.” She didn’t look like someone who had just escaped captivity.

“Thank you. And please don’t call me that Neji nii-san, I’ve told you before that there’s no need to be so formal.”

She also hadn’t explained what was going on, or why she had used the code that was only for Hyuga emergencies. He had known something had changed from the moment she took a seat across from him in the office, but his next inhale made him falter. He waited for her to dig into the cafeteria bento his assistant had sourced for her, then commented, “Your scent…it’s different.”

Until recently, Hinata had never had any reason to properly consider what having a mate might mean for her career, her life. At most, she had believed that having a mate would reduce the effect of her designation: she would attract Alphas less due to her restrained scent, and heats would be milder, shorter. But nobody could have prepared her for the unabashedly snoopy stares from office works at her neck as she was covertly rushed through the office building, the erratic stabs at her gland - an apparent withdrawal symptom of being away from her Alpha’s scent. Now that there was a very obvious reminder of her designation indented on her body, the sense of hope for her future she had felt before was beginning to dissolve.

It was uncustomary for Neji to make any reference to their respective designations, and although her light-headedness had eased some during the journey to his office, she knew she had to be cautious around her cousin. For all his talk about true mates Orochimaru had spooked her into believing something was wrong with her, and the encounter with Tenten was making alarm bells sound even louder in her head. 

She tried uselessly to deflect. “E-Eh? I-Is it? Maybe it’s my perfume or—”

Neji froze as he scented the smoke beneath the honey, finally understanding what had changed, and why she was so flustered. “You’re mated?!”

Hinata turned as red as a tomato at his blunt observation, and then, as if in an interrogation room began to recount the succession of events that had taken place from the night she had delivered Menma to the hospital to her return to work in a quick fire stream of words, taking care to gloss over any explicit points that might give evidence to Menma’s true identity. She could not readily come up with an answer for why she did not disclose who Menma was, beyond a selfish need to keep Naruto, in whatever form, to herself.

When she finished Neji looked apprehensive, fiddling with the golden Hyuga pin on his lapel.“I see…Do you have any idea who that Menma guy is?” She felt her throat tighten, waiting for him to continue.

Neji’s expression was stern. “He’s one of the most ruthless people in Tokyo right now. They say that if you see him you’re lucky enough to get away with your life.” He snatched his mobile phone up and began to text, quickly. “Have you heard of the Akatsuki?”

Almost everyone had. “A little…wasn’t their leader the one who killed Jiraiya-san when we were younger?”

“Yeah. That same leader was killed about ten days ago. Rumour has it Menma completed the hit.”

The whole world went a little off-kilter after that for Hinata. The timeline matched up with the night she had helped him. She had heard Jiraiya had taken him on as an apprentice - had it been a revenge kill? A life for a life?

She studied Neji studying her, and tried to smooth her features. “But Neji nii-san, don’t yakuza murders happen all the time? How is this any different to how Sasuke killed Danzo?”

“Even the yakuza have rules, Hinata-sama.” Neji dismissed. “Besides, Danzo was a cockroach. By the time Sasuke got to him everybody wanted him dead. We’re still cleaning the filth he brought to Tokyo.”

He went back to texting furiously, saying, “The problem is that nobody knows this guy, or what he plans to do. We don’t even know who he works for.”

Obito’s face flashed in her mind, and she wondered how much she could say without receiving even more disdain. She licked her lips, bolstering herself. “I might know something.”

Neji’s head lifted. “Know what?”

“There's a man…their headquarters chief. He’s the only one who can act as a bodyguard to me because he’s an Omega.”

At that, Neji’s eyebrow raised, prompting her keep talking.

“His name is Obito. He has a big scar on the side of his face, kind of like he was—”

“Burned?” Neji finished. At her nod he cursed to the side. “ _Shit_.”

Within the hour Neji had cancelled the rest of his meetings for the day and was driving Hinata back to the compound despite her protests. If what she had said was true, then he needed to make arrangements for her to lay low as soon as possible.

He tapped his bluetooth earpiece to answer the incoming call.

“Yo. I got your texts.”

“Kakashi-sama,” he cast a worried look at Hinata through the rear view mirror, “I have Hinata-sama with me. We’re on our way to the compound.”

“…If Obito is the one that’s been watching after her, he’ll know she’s missing soon. We need to get her out of town.”

His voice took a deeper pitch as he tried to lower his voice. “She…has a bond.”

“With Obito? That’s impossible he’s—”

“—An Omega. I know, she told me. It’s Menma.”

“…Shit. Where’s Hiashi?”

“I haven’t been able to get through to him at all; that’s why I contacted you. Hanabi says he has a private meeting scheduled.”

“A meeting even _you_ can’t know about?” The line crackled with Kakashi’s sigh. “Keep Hinata away from the meeting room if you can. I’ll see if we can find Obito, maybe we can slow him down.”

Behind him Hinata was fretfully twiddling her fingers, and he could see her skin was glistening with sweat. She looked even more peaky than before. He could only hope that whatever was ailing her would not affect their getaway.

He looked away from the rear view mirror. “Understood.” 

***

Ever since his recruitment, Menma had loved working for a Tokyo yakuza family. No matter how depraved his actions were, he could never really feel guilty as the entire city was incredibly corrupt, still suffering from the after effects of Danzo’s extended stint as the Minister of Defence.

Nevertheless, there were parts of his job he enjoyed less than others. Politics was one of them. 

He hated the endless meetings that left his knees sore and spine aching for a stretch, the stupid conversations where you always had to skirt around eggshells and act within hierarchy.

He couldn’t wait until they would begin to rewrite the rules.

Hanabi knocked on the sliding door three times before opening it, a code he guessed was supposed to pre-empt his arrival. 

Menma stepped into the room with a nod. “Hiashi.”

The Hyuga regarded him detachedly as he joined him on the tatami. “Hmph. You’re not what I expected.”

Menma scowled behind his signature kitsune mask. Kumichou had warned him not to lose his temper, and he’d be damned if Hiashi made him lose his leverage.

The man gestured to the tray between them. “Care for a drink?”

Menma's eyes swept across each wall of the room, noting the single exit point out of habit - the very door he had walked through moments before. “I’m not thirsty.”

“Where’s your boss? I thought I would be meeting him in person today.”

“Well,” he started, “If you accept our terms you might get to meet him at my wedding.”

“…What?”

Menma’s voice was clear and decisive, allowing no room for misinterpretation. “I’ll get straight to the point. I’m going to marry your daughter in a month, and in exchange you’re going to form an alliance with the Shugetsu clan.”

Baffled by this and suddenly feeling the chill of unwelcome uncertainty, Hiashi could only ask again, “What are you talking about?”

“I think you’ll find our interests are very much aligned. After all, she’s already been marked - she can’t be with anyone else.”

Instantly he thought to Hinata, his only Omega child. They had not spoken in the week or so since she had warned him of her upcoming heat, as she usually did. Had she been with Menma the whole time?

He took a sizeable gulp of his tea to calm his voice before speaking, hoping his rising fury would not betray him.“…Let me get this straight. Not only are you mates with Hinata, but now you’re blackmailing me in my own house? Do you have any idea where you are?”

“I never said it was her, but I’m glad you’re open to the idea.” A muffled cackle sounded from the kitsune mask. “I’m offering you the chance to save face - your daughter marries me, and no one needs to know how it all happened. You can also consider this a debt repaid after kumichou’s help to find Hizashi’s body during the kidnapping incident.”

Letting the jibes and not-so-veiled extortion slide, Hiashi looked at him. Really looked at him: his broad shoulders, confident demeanour, brash tongue. This Menma character was intimidating, obtuse…and not a stranger. It wasn’t just his concealed identity that was giving him an advantage, it was the fact that they _knew_ each other, but Hiashi couldn’t place how.

Menma had been leading the meeting so far, but he had broken one of the cardinal rules of negotiation - never make an offer until all the cards are on the table. It was true that the Shugetsu had been key in laying Hizashi to rest, but that was hardly blackmail-worthy. The real issue was that his daughter now had a bond to a man he could not recognise.

“We’ve met before, haven’t we?” Hiashi posed.

His black-cloaked guest stiffened like a shadow against a wall. “What makes you say that?”

“You know, I don’t remember faces as well as people often expect me to.” He sighed, looking at Menma over the rim of his teacup. “Walks, though. I never forget the way people walk.” 

He paused for a moment, allowing his silence to solidify and take root before he proceeded. 

Patience had always been his defining trait. To think that the Shugetsu kumichou had recruited Naruto Uzumaki, the golden boy who was not shy about his ambitions to lead the Konoha alliance. 

What a way for Hinata to reunite with the sunshine boy that had captured her attention all those years ago.

“The Shugetsu clan have walked alone for nearly a decade. I assumed alliances did not interest you…just what are you planning?”

The shadow relaxed, confident again. “Accept my offer and I just might tell you.”

***

Seeing her childhood home when it was no longer home was a strange feeling. Now she could clearly see the difference in this compound and her current accommodation; here, everything seemed to be covered in an aura of old money and generational wealth, there, a conscious decision had been made to turn tradition on its head.

Hinata shivered despite the fact that a cup of sencha was steaming in her hands. Ever since Neji had speedily escorted her to the compound she had only seen him in intervals as he busied about making arrangements and barking orders to passing staff. It made her queasy to see Neji so jittery. Ever since she had told him about Obito he had seemed almost…afraid.

He stepped back into the room, pocketing his phone. “We’re all set. I’ll be escorting you to Hiroshima myself.”

“W-what?” she stammered, “Why are we leaving Tokyo?”

But he was already tugging on her arm to breeze a familiar path through the corridors towards the entrance gate. “We need to get you out of town before Obito finds you.”

The growing sense that things were devolving was not unwarranted and hard to shift. Neji was worried about Obito, but what about Menma? If they were really true mates as Orochimaru had explained, she doubted she would even be able to leave the city - already the pain at her gland had evolved into an agonising, head-spinning throb that was hard to disguise and made her teeter, rather than fall into step behind Neji. She was beginning to regret not divulging the whole story to him.

When they reached the driveway a few members nodded at her in greeting as they loaded luggage and supplies into a matte black SUV. 

“I’m sorry this has all happened so quickly.” Neji said. “Once we’re on the train I’ll tell you everythi—”

The abrupt cut off made her turn to him, eyebrow raised. She watched as a single sweat drop ran from his forehead to his chin.

“Hinata, get in the car. **Now**.”

It was the first time she had heard him use an Alpha command in her life, and she was not compelled to obey him. Any effect it was supposed to have was nullified by her bond with Menma. 

She rushed to the car, slamming the heavy door of the SUV behind her because she had felt _him_ nearby at the same time. Why was he at the compound?

With timing so terrible one would think she was cursed, Menma and Hiashi emerged from the opulent double front doors.

Neji disguised his angst by giving a little bow to both men.“Hiashi-sama…I didn’t expect to see you here. I’m just on my way out.”

“Hm.” Hiashi nodded. “I’m just escorting Menma out. I’ll introduce you to him properly soon as we’ll be working together more of—”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Hiashi blinked. Looked at Menma who had interrupted him, then at Neji, then back to Menma again.

He turned to his guest, trying for patience in the face of incivility. “Is there a problem, Menma-san?”

Menma ignored him to walk down the marble stairs, prowling towards Neji. “Where is she?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking abou—”

In horror, Hinata watched from the car as Menma pummelled Neji’s jaw, shifting to face the Hyuga security who had promptly appeared in response. When Neji righted himself, he spat a mouthful of blood to the side.

The choppiness of his laughter shocked her and she could see his teeth shined red. “To think that _you’re_ the one who did this…didn’t you once tell me it’s possible to change what you are? To change fate?”

Seeing the quickly escalating showdown Hiashi suddenly snapped with a scowl, “Neji, stand down!”

Ignoring Hiashi, the two eyed each other as the Hyuga security details began to form a defence line between them.

“It’s nice to see you again, Naruto. After all this time.” Neji said.

Menma said nothing, but curled his fists. He didn’t need to say a word anyways - Hinata felt it all at once, hitting her with the force of a heavyweight’s overhand punch. The scalding sting of wrath as it spread beneath his skin, the whisper in his skull asking him: _are you a clever fox or an unstable force? Will you follow me into utopia, or settle for this shameful contradiction, where death and hatred are required to maintain peace?_

Every aspect of the clash between her mate and cousin filled her dread. Menma’s head tilted towards the tinted window she was crouched behind, as if feeling her conflict and considering her pleas. When she saw his eyes shift to lock with Neji’s though, she knew he had made up his mind.

Then he was like a monster unrestrained, mowing through one Hyuga after another with jaw-shattering blows and strikes until they lay brittle and bloodied around him, leaving only Neji between himself and his Omega. 

Was this what it meant to be a deadly wakagashira? A Kyuubi?

“My name…is…Menma,” he said between breaths. “Don’t you _ever_ call me Naruto again.”

He gave another forceful kick to a floored bodyguard before continuing, “I’m only going to ask you one more time. Where is she?”

That he was still asking where she was seemed to be an insignificant formality at that point, and Hinata had had enough of watching him trample over her family. Neji was settling into the classic stance he had learnt in the Hyuga dojo when he heard the clip of the car door, and Hinata’s frantic footsteps as she ran towards them in her heels.

She stood in front of Neji and spread her arms wide, her best effort at shielding him. “Enough, Menma! Please, stop hurting them! I’ll come back with you.”

The tension that had previously seemed inescapable suddenly tempered and Menma growled in assent, pulling her towards his sedan. “Damn right you will.” On the evidence of his lighter scent and quieter thoughts, she had appeased him…for now.

Watching from the car she had been aghast at Menma’s single-minded ruthlessness, his strength and efficiency in dispelling a squadron of Hyuga bodyguards with ease. Even if she were to somehow get to Hiroshima, deep down she knew she would never get his glacial stare out of her mind. She could shorn him physically, but he had already made his mark on her in enough ways to ruin her for anyone else - including herself. She had effectively chosen Menma, the devil she didn’t know, the moment she helped him to the hospital. 

Hiashi, meanwhile, watched their interaction with impersonal interest. In their meeting Menma had made himself seem like he was mated to his daughter as a simple political ploy, but in a matter of minutes the myth had been dispelled. Although unnecessary, he had understood his violent reaction to Neji’s behaviour as a clear demonstration of protectiveness driven by jealousy. Whether he could acknowledge it easily or not, Menma cared for Hinata in his own misguided way.

His gaze flitted to Neji who was having a hard time holding in a bellow of rage watching their car rev up. Although he remained optimistic that Hinata would be okay - she was shrewd and persistent enough to guarantee that - they needed to discuss what to do with the Konoha alliance leaders, quickly. 

As they drove away, she pressed her sweaty palm against the window in a makeshift farewell. Similarly, Hiashi gave her a reserved head tilt as if commending her attempt to de-escalate the situation. It was the same tilt he used to give when she settled into her stance before a spar in the dojo, that showed he was trusting her, counting on her to endure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hinata escapes....then goes right back to her cage. So frustrating, I know ;)
> 
> Side note - funny enough, Hiashi and Shikamaru have been my favourite characters to write so far. All that armchair strategy and tried wisdom makes me wistful haha. I have a few ideas flying around for oneshots...


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for hanging with me so far and sharing your thoughts, feedback and support :)
> 
> I do want to let you know next week I will be taking a break so please do not expect an update for chapter 6 until the Friday after next. That being said, I plan to post chapter 6 and 7 at the same time - so this short fic will be complete the week after next! 
> 
> It feels so strange to say it, but we are almost at the finish line :D

“Why were you meeting with my father?”

In willingly following him into the car, her curious symptoms had abated: no more headaches, nausea or pain at her gland. But she knew what Orochimaru had suggested was true. They were true mates. Menma was a blank sheet of paper though - there was no telling if he was experiencing any symptoms of his own.

Now they were in stuck in mid afternoon traffic, the tension of the day had begun to settle like dust, and Hinata felt strangled.

His delivery was neutral, blue eyes fixed on the cacophony of cars ahead. “Because we’re getting married in a month’s time.”

“W-what?”

“I met up with your father, to tell him we’re getting married in a month.”

Hinata was at a loss. This was yet another instance in a trend of hurtful manoeuvres towards her. 

“…Aren’t you supposed to ask me if I _want_ to get married first?”

He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel distractedly. “That implies you have a choice. Don’t forget I marked you.”

She slumped against the passenger seat, exasperated and uncomprehending, letting him fixate on the traffic for a few moments. It was hard to tell whether his cold-hearted manner stemmed from an inflated sense of superiority as a result of his designation, or the fact that with his rank in the Shugetsu and strength in a fight, he could easily hold Tokyo in the palm of his hand. Everything about him simultaneously ignited and exhausted her. 

She flattened her palms against her face. “Why did you even come looking for me in the first place?” she mumble-asked through her hair.

Menma could not admit the truth aloud. The fact that ever since she had slapped his hand away he had always known she would be the one, just not sure how. That mangled memories of her scent had long kept his demons at bay, granted him sleep on the nights when insomnia was its most persistent.

So he said nothing.

This was their first real conversation in over a week. He had finally acknowledged her, acknowledged what was happening to her. It should have felt like a eureka moment, but all she could feel was a hollow pang in her chest. She stared at the kitsune mask he had tossed on the leather armrest between them, trying to blink away the salty tears that were gathering. She could never forgive herself if she made herself look even weaker than she already had.

It seemed there was no manual for a heart like his, and even if it existed, no one would give it to her.

“I can’t believe I used to love you,” she whispered with some weariness.

When he heard this Menma turned to face her, unimpressed. “ _Used_ to?” He managed to keep a straight face for a beat before he let out a brief guffaw and puff off charred pheromones that made her wince, “You think I don’t see how you look at me? How just being in the same room as you makes your scent all sickly sweet and hopeful, as if maybe one day you’ll be the one to change me back to your precious Naruto?”

Frustration welled up within Hinata and before she knew it she was shouting in reply, “What the hell happened to you? Why are you so violent? Why are you always so angr—?”

“Why do you _think_ I’m so fucking angry?” His knuckles strained around the steering wheel as he pushed on the throttle, accelerating now that they had pushed past the crux of the traffic. “Do you have any idea what I’ve done for you? I took care of you during your heat! I let _you_ mark _me_! I even told the others to stop bullying you back in the Academy and yet I haven’t heard a single thank you come from your lips!”

“You think I’m going to say thank you?” Her mouth gaped in disbelief. “You never, never asked for my permission for any of this!”

The car screeched to a halt and Hinata recognised for the first time that they were already on the private tree-lined road that led to the house. Menma leaned over the armrest, over Hinata, and said with an undertone of finality, “I never asked your permission because I don’t need to.” 

He was unrestrained again, and as in his earlier face-off with Neji she was struck by the stab of whirling anger in her gut, laced with something faint but not insignificant that she if she had to guess was… his regret? Hurt?

Then she felt the breeze of his pheromones.

It only took a single breath of his scent for her to be swept up, and when he sealed his lips against hers it was if he was sapping away all her will to fight. She felt heady, suspended in his smoky sandalwood scent as she grew short of breath.

Chills trickled up and down her spine as he pressed his hot lips over her mark, hands wrenching her knees apart to shove up her skirt. It felt good, too good when he inched a thick finger inside of her, and she yelped when he added two more to make her fall apart faster. 

Slick coated her thighs and the leather seat beneath her as Menma’s fingers rammed her pussy, wrenching out wet sounds that mingled with her pleasured moans. She wished she could rearrange herself; she was still facing forwards in her seat, which limited the depth of his movements inside her. She let out an amalgamated moan-groan which vibrated against the scorching hand on her throat, forcing their eye contact. Those cold eyes of his had a simmering glow that she hadn’t seen since her heat.

He dragged his fingers out of her cunt with a squelch, stretching them apart in front of her so the syrupy slick hung between his digits in thin ropes. “Look at this. This tells me all I need to know.”

She was still breathing heavily as he licked his fingers clean. “Even now, you’re waiting for me to fuck you, huh,” he said between tastes. “No one else can make you feel like this.” 

Words seemed elusive to her. Her fickle Omega body had proven that whatever measure she took to resist him, Menma could meet head-on. 

And then he was buckling his seatbelt and revving up the car a split second later, giving her almost no time to recover from her ruined orgasm or shove her skirt back down. “It doesn’t matter where you go or who you call. I’ll bring you back to me. Even if you’re kicking and screaming.”

***

When they arrived at the house she did not follow Menma inside, choosing to remain in solitude until the sky turned dark and the evening cold made her shiver in the car. Ever the diligent guard and - dare she say it - friend, Obito had eventually found her trembling in her seat, and resignedly carried her bridal style in the direction of her bathroom, silent throughout their journey.

She placed her palm on the surface of the water, watching how it rippled under the slight pressure she applied. Given the threat of Menma’s rage and his capacity for violence, it was hard to determine whether she had been complicit in her predicament - passively staying with him for days before making any attempt to escape, choosing to drive back with him to the house instead of resisting with her family members. 

Menma was right - she had latched onto the idea of discovering Naruto under all those layers, but not enough of him remained for her to treat him the way she did before. 

Even if she were to ask Neji for help, she knew he would be no match against Menma’s might. The strength he had demonstrated earlier was fresh in her mind, and she knew that like it or not, he best way forward would be to steer clear of her family for now. There was also the added complexity of their bond - they now had a lifelong link at the deepest level, that no distance could erase or reduce.

She felt the weight of the past few weeks sink into her skin as Menma’s infuriating smirk danced behind her eyes.

_What would Hanabi do?_ If, in some warped parallel universe Hanabi had found herself in her shoes, how would she respond?

Imagining herself as the younger heiress had been a coping mechanism cultivated over years of cruel sibling comparison. At first she had begun posing the question internally as self-deprecation, but by now it had become a means for her to navigate conflicting feelings when she was in a difficult position.

Hanabi was headstrong and ambitious, and could never take a loss well. But the few times she did lose a fight in the dojo Hinata remembered what had happened. She had picked herself up, embraced the opportunity to rethink her approach and then come back in a vengeful blaze, hell-bent on making her opponent pay for what they’d done.

She wouldn’t describe herself as wanting to make Menma pay. Although she hated much of what he had said and done - more than she had despised anything in her life - what she hated most was the fact that she had wanted more from him. More of the rare tender moments he displayed that she was sure he waned her to forget. When he drew away from her the pang she had felt had reverberated across the space below her ribs, until she was sure she would retch.

So far, her careful treading had been all for nought; he was still pushing her away, refusing to let her in.

That was separated her from her sister, she realised. _Hanabi would push her way in_. _She wouldn’t give him a choice._

***

Obito watched the Hyuga girl throw kicks and punches on the veranda. She was practising the Gentle Fist now, bathed in morning sun. He did not know much about the form but he could tell she could use some improvement: her shoulder blades were screwed taught and her thighs twitched as if unused to the tension of a duel. 

She had waltzed into the open plan living room not too long ago in a white t-shirt and leggings, looking the most casual and carefree he could remember. Then, to his utter amazement, she had offered to make him breakfast, and set to work in the kitchen.

Although he had been taken off guard, her brief escape had impressed him more than anything - it was rare for anyone to slip through his fingers when he was standing watch. Nevertheless he knew that it had had a detrimental effect on her relationship with Menma; finding her lone and vulnerable the night before had spoken volumes.

But she had surprised him again. She was not the wallowing, self-loathing woman he had seen yesterday.

He turned the page of the newspaper, trying to focus on a report on debt markets but he found his eyes peeling away to settle back on Hinata with a mixture of sympathy and respect. If this was her way of getting by, he would not judge. He’d always had a weakness for underdogs.

He put his newspaper down, standing to meet her on the veranda. “You look like you could use some help.”

***

Menma called him in the evening for their usual daily briefing.

“I have to do a few collections today, so I’ll be back a bit late.”

“Hn. Hinata can leave some leftovers for you. She’s been cooking all day.”

Neither man spoke for a moment, both a little embarrassed at Obito’s lack of tact. He wasn’t sure whether he had grown protective over her after being around her day in and out, or merely disapproving of Menma’s apparent lack of emotional intelligence, but he found he had no wish to apologise to his Aniki or take his words back. 

“…So the two of you are friends now.”

The tip of Obito’s mouth curled in amusement.“Is that a problem?”

Having lived like brothers, they were no strangers to bickering. However it wasn’t like Obito to be so instigative. Not so outwardly, anyways, and he found himself feeling like a fish out of water with no comeback readily available.

The line clicked as he ended the call. Menma stood from his desk and gripped his tumbler, walking to the large glass window overlooking the luminous city. Then in a sudden fit of anger, he hurled the glass behind his desk, leaving a splatter of glass and burning brown liquid to drip down the wall.

***

When he entered their bedroom later that night, he was a little more bruised than usual and certainly more pissed. During the last collection visit, his mind had drifted to the Hyuga in his bed more than he had liked, causing more hits to land on him than he had expected.

He stood beside her for a little while, scrutinising. She was pretending to sleep, _again_. 

Moving away to strip, he said, “You know, you smell like rotten milk when you’re scared. Might as well stop acting like you’re asleep.”

He heard the shuffle of the sheets behind him, then to his surprise, her voice, “I’m not scared of you. I’m scared _for_ you.”

Looking over his shoulder, he saw her sat up in the middle of the bed looking incredibly small, a black and ivory speck in the mountain of fluffy sheets. It was annoying how someone her size was able to trouble him so much.

At his silence, she continued. “Stay with me tonight. Please?”

The breath that left him then was long and smoky. Even he could tell his scent was heavier, secretly pleased with his Omegas request, at her willingness to extend an olive branch to him after their spat the night before.

Too tired to brush his teeth or argue, he ambled to join her on the bed, stretching out behind her the way he usually did - with enough space between their bodies to fit an extra person.

But in a change to their usual pattern, she shuffled closer, reaching behind herself to wrap his arm around her waist.

“Please,” she urged, when he tried to tug it away.

Crestfallenness at his reluctance to touch her. An underlying urge to roll over and rut into him like an animal. A fragile warmth directed at him, that made him want to kiss her pain better.

All of her clashing emotions were permeating his skin, one by one. His gland itched, inner Alpha irritated at his holding back.

He leaned into her neck, inhaled, felt his muscles sink into the bed as her milky scent poured over him. Too tired to consider the implications of the change in their bond, he envisioned a blank space in his mind, surrendering to sleep with his Omega in his arms.

*** 

Menma shoulders sagged as he reclined in the deep, square basalt tub where he had chosen to take refuge. Had he known the transformative power his harsh words would have had on his soon-to-be wife, he would worked harder to keep his cool during their drive back from the Hyuga compound.

Ever since then, pieces of her had been everywhere - in Obito’s unthinking remarks, on his tongue when he ate the meals she left for him, in his veins when she was tired, hurt or distressed. The result was that he was utterly engrossed with her, and struggling to maintain any veneer of indifference. His aniki had clearly noticed, and seemed to enjoy riling him up wherever possible.

He was just contemplating how to get the stone-faced Uchiha back when Hinata slinked into the room, one arm holding her towel up.

“What are you doing here?”

She edged closer to him, stopping to hang her towel on the wall before joining him in the bath. There was more than enough space for the two of them, but he suddenly felt claustrophobic.

He tensed when she waded over to him until her thick strands of wet hair stuck to his shoulder. 

“You looked tense when you came home, so I thought I’d help you wash your back.”

When he had walked through the door, seeing her giggle with Obito as they snacked on homemade dango had squashed any sense of decompression he should have felt by coming home. This bath was supposed to be his hideaway, but even here she had found him.

He grit his teeth, feeling vulnerable against whatever it was she had contrived. Low-ranking members called him the Kyuubi, but in that moment he only felt the courage of a rabbit.

With a grunt he turned to face away from her as if flinching from the emotions she propelled within him, bringing the ornate fox into her view.

He felt her sketch the outline of the fox’s teeth, digging deeper each time she reach a pointed edge. 

“I like it.”

“You don’t think it’s scary?”

“I told you before, I don’t find you scary.” She began to scrub his back in massaging strokes with a washcloth. “How old were you when you got it done?”

Now leaning over the side of the tub, he could see how her gentle movements were making small waterfalls cascade onto the wet room floor. The sound of periodic running water loosened him a little.

“Fifteen. I got it the same day kumichou recruited me.”

He thought back to how his kumichou had found him in an alleyway wearing week-old clothes, an open invitation to crooks and good samaritans alike. “Not long after Jiraiya was murdered.”

Even outside the yakuza world, Jiraiya’s death had been big news. Sensing she had just stumbled on a deep emotional scar, Hinata rubbed his shoulder in careful consolation. “Who was Jiraiya-san to you?”

“He was my mentor. We were…close.”

Neji’s earlier warnings rang through her head. “…And Pain killed him.”

As if having exhausted all emotional vulnerability for the day, he merely huffed in agreement, for once not avoiding her statement or what else it implied. Understanding that his grief was ongoing, Hinata decided to let the topic hang there.

She heard him sigh. “You said that you could never reject me. Is that still true?” Muttering into his folded arms, he sounded remarkably similar to the blonde ball of sunshine from her memories, voice slightly abrasive yet fragile in the same way.

She answered him almost immediately. “Yes. Always.”

Her words cut into the comfortable silence and she noted that the stiffness in his shoulders had returned, synchronous with a spike in his scent that made her head swim; there was a flash flood of emotion, but there was something in it’s base that separated this instance from similar ones before - satisfaction. She stood suddenly, sitting on the wide rim of the bath and took pleasure in the way his eyes gleamed like a sword when he turned to look at her, wet and pink and dripping.

This dynamic was different to when he had first accosted her. Before, there was just a mutual attraction that compelled them to lose themselves in one another. Now, there was something else that felt durable, bottomless.

When he swam up to kiss her knees she pushed his head away, enjoying the power trip. Then she opened them wide, so wide he could see her little hole begin to stretch. 

Her hand guided him back closer with a smirk as she tossed his words back at him as if smashing through a window. “I’m not embarrassed, Menma. Not when you react like that.”

The faintest of blushes scattered across the bridge of his nose at her words and for a moment it was as though she could feel his heartbeat pick up speed, but his gaze did not separate from hers.

She stared into his eyes as he proceeded to slowly bend down to taste.

His tongue swirled hot and moist inside of her, and she shuddered under his ministrations. When he reached up to pinch a peaked nipple she squirmed against him even more making him growl appreciatively then suddenly draw back.

“Turn around.”

“E-Eh?”

Her cheeks were rosy, and she seemed to have lost some of her bravado where Menma’s blood was pumping a mix of impatience and arousal.

Without delay, he stood in the bath to turn her around, then laved over her again, drawing out gentle moans with the rhythmical thrusts of his tongue into her centre.

The sudden slap of his rough palm against her slippery ass wrenched a strangled sob from Hinata, and she strained to remain standing above the water. She could feel something burning white hot in her groin, and it made her want to stay where she was forever, unabashed by her wanton behaviour.

A wet section of hair slapped her back as she whipped to look at Menma. Gazing directly at her, he smacked her ass again before inserting three fingers in a deep curl, making her rise to her tip toes. Tears rolled some her face as she came unhinged, wailing and shaking as he continued to impale her.

He hummed against her slippery spine, debating how to devour her next.

A small slick hand curling around his length wrestled the decision making power from him, and his eyes were glued to her guileful ones as she guided him into her drenched centre until her sticky folds were flush against his groin.

She was still looking him over her shoulder, determined gaze fixed upon him as she stretched her spine into a deep arch. Menma almost lost his footing at the view.

“Fuck you’re so good for me, presenting for your Alpha.”

Equally affected and unable to speak, she mewled through her lips and lifted her hips away…then sank to the hilt. Her slow, bewitching pace aroused him beyond belief, and he gave another spank in gratitude, words of encouragement spilling from his mouth.

“There we go, fuck yourself on my dick. Just like that.”

_Kami_. She moved torturously, as if this were a game of chess that demanded slow, steady precision. He was unmoving, but she was tugging him into a stupor with her wicked hips and delicious smell.

“Look at that pretty little pussy,” he grit out, pulling at the flesh of her ass to watch the grip of her walls as she impaled herself over and over again.

It turned out that her boldness had just been a taster of her dominion over him. Just as he was starting to think he might not be able to tolerate her leisurely rhythm, a surge of honey-sweet pheromones made him falter, his grip scratch deep into her hips.

Menma collapsed over her back, the burning in his gut bringing him dangerously close to climax. When he lifted his head to regard her he saw the mischief there, below the open arousal. 

“Menma…harder…p-please?”

It had been a while since he last heard her stammer over her words and it did something to him. 

Lifting her into an arch more punishing than the last, he thrusted deep and fast, pushing a series of breathy moans from her. In no time at all she was in the throes of orgasm, twitching against him as the slaps of their bodies meeting mingled with the splash of water against the bathroom floor.

He didn’t stop, was committed to fuck her until she was completely gone, unable to tell the start of an orgasm from the end of another.

His lips nibbled on her flushed earlobe. “You know you’re mine, right? I won’t let you leave again.”

In answer he was pulled into a wanting kiss by the back of his head. For once, this kiss wasn’t about one establishing dominance over another, it was about shared comfort and insecurities, the long overdue acknowledgement of buried feelings.

When he parted, he felt little butterflies erupt at the base of his stomach, a curious sensation that built on the new feelings he had come to recognise only Hinata could induce. Was this what she felt when he caught her watching him, when she snuggled closer to him at night?

Black strands tickled her neck as he drooled over her gland, tempted but holding out. Then like a tidal wave she felt his fangs bite into her mark again, making her sway into another release.

***

“Obito?”

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you a question? Omega to Omega?”

The rapport between Obito and Hinata had evolved to the point where he now openly welcomed her company. There was something undeniably snug about her that made it easy to forget all the wrong that had happened to him, and how much needed to be set right. He cowardly blamed it on their designations being the same, but knew deep down that she filled a gap he had neglected for some time.

They had just blitzed through an afternoon sparring session, and were lying on the freshly cut grass outside to catch their breaths and revel in the calm that felt like a retreat in comparison to the busy bustle of Tokyo.

“Just ask, and let me decide if I feel like answering you.”

Her eyes smiled at him. “Have you ever…spent your heat with someone?”

“No.”

“…But you know what it’s like don’t you? Not being able to pull away.”

A transient image of lazy eyes and silver gravity-defying hair crossed his mind. Even now, over twenty years later, the recollection of his drawl made him hard as hell, an annoying reflex imprinted on his Omega brain. He felt the breeze run through his short hair and was jolted back into action.

“Yeah,” he confessed. “I do.”

Quiet, gentle breeze washing over his ears. Then: “Why did you let them go?”

Obito faltered, unsettled by the fact that she had managed to take the conversation so far and unsure if he felt like opening that closet. The skeletons there were plentiful, and he had opted to ignore them for as long as he could.

“He killed someone. A special someone.”

The grass crunched a little as Hinata turned to him. It was curious that both Obito and Menma had been pushed to the edge by the deaths of loved ones. Obito though, seemed more receptive to the topic than Menma was. 

“He killed Rin,” she surmised. “Do you know why he killed her?”

He sent her a confused look. “Does it matter?”

“The why _always_ matters.”

He stewed silently over Hinata’s words. “Is that why you asked about Menma before? You want to know why he changed?”

She nodded, crunching more strands of grass.

He looked up at the great blue sky above them, thinking. He had never stopped to question Kakashi’s actions that day. Knowing he had killed Rin had always been enough. Enough to make him run from the Uchiha clan, the Konoha alliance, _him_. 

“We both changed when we met kumichou.” He turned back to her, halting his internal train of thought. “He’s going to help us build a better world, without silly turf wars and playground politics.”

His hand clutched the grass beneath him. “And no more senseless deaths.”

***

There was grim irony in the fact that he had landed the role Obito had once dreamed of.

As a child Kakashi had never wished to become kumichou. At most he aimed to be a high-ranking henchman, a soldier with one clear duty: kill in order to protect the family. 

But plans changed. After Tsunade announced she would be stepping down to move into politics, a move that could only be facilitated after Danzo’s assassination, there had been a brief scrabble for candidates, during which he had been nominated, then to his shock, named as her successor.

He should have perhaps seen the recent chain of events coming long ago given he was behind Rin’s death. Meeting Obito again had always been inevitable; it would make the most sense for him to resurface in a way that would devastate him and all the ways he had tried to atone. Who had known he would rope in an old student of his, too?

“He took out _fifteen_ Hyugas without any guns.” Neji reported to the group, adding: “When he was done he didn’t even look tired.”

Kakashi was not at all shocked at Menma’s relentlessness. “He’s always been able to outlast people. That’s why Sasuke was the only person who could really take him on.” He paused, then commented, “I’m just surprised he specifically looked for Hinata. I thought anything between them would end at the hospital.”

This made Neji snarl: “You should have told me the minute you knew she was the one that brought him in. I would have made sure that he never marked her.”

Over the course of their meeting, Shikamaru noted, Neji had mainly shown two faces: anger at how quickly the Shugetsu problem had grown, and humiliation at the powerlessness he felt in the face of their co-ordination and ability. Maybe he should have said something in that meeting with Hiashi and Neji. In a matter of weeks, so much had spun out of control, faster than even he could have foreseen…

Kakashi glanced at his former student in the upholstered sofa opposite him who had so far remained stoically quiet. “Sasuke. The two of you were close before. What do you think is going on?”

The Uchiha sighed impassively as if they weren’t discussing his murderous childhood friend. That the dobe had steamrolled on, completely undeterred by the buzz he had created amongst the yakuza families told him everything he needed to know. They were alike, but not too alike after all.

“It’s not about revenge.”

“Wha-? How can you say that? You saw what he did to Pain—”, Neji spluttered.

“No, Sasuke has a point.” Shikamaru cut in. “If it were about revenge why stop at Pain? Why not the people who called him a monster in the Academy when he presented? Why not the council who put out the order to keep quiet about who his parents were?”

“And why take Hinata?” Kakashi added. “They already had dirt on your clan, Neji. They didn’t need Hinata to force an alliance.”

Neji had known his clan had plenty of shadowy alliances but learning that his father’s body had only been discovered thanks to the support of the Shugetsu had nearly sent him into a tailspin. Sure, Hiashi had his reasons for being discreet, he usually did, but it should have been clear from the outset that working with a suspicious clan without having even met their leader in person would lead to some turbulence later on.

There still were many dots to connect but one stood out to Neji as he sorted through the jumbled mess that was his thoughts. “Then what about Obito? Is he looking for revenge then, or something bigger? What purpose could connect the two of them?”

“Obito’s disappearance _was_ revenge.” Kakashi interjected with a cryptic expression. The group were already vaguely aware of Kakashi’s hand in Rin’s death, and his tightlippedness on what had happened that day. “He’s already made his point, so there has to be something else motivating him, too.”

Shikamaru balanced his bearded chin between two fingers, thinking. “I don’t know _what_ could connect them, but I have an idea _who_.”

“Who?” Neji asked.

Sasuke sank deeper into the leather couch, crossing his arms as he suddenly intoned, “Madara.”

A different kind of tension now gripped the room.

“ _Uchiha_ Madara?” Neji scoffed unbelievingly, looking between the three yakuza men. “You’re joking, right? He’s dead.”

“According to who?” Shikamaru asked.

“The fucking autopsy reports—”

“The same ones conducted by Root?”

“You don’t even have any proof—”

Shikamaru’s reply was deadpan. “Actually, we do. Sasuke had Sakura’s team dig up Madara’s grave a few days ago. The DNA doesn’t match. The body wasn’t even an Uchiha's.”

_Shit_. At that, Neji poured himself a large glass of whiskey and downed the whole thing in one huge gulp, quashing any annoyance that he had clearly been the last to hear this latest development. 

It was one thing to challenge Menma who had already shown he could hold his own, but Obito and Madara, alongside whatever goons they’d managed to string along too? Amid his fear was also a deep concern for Hinata - it was difficult to see how he could pull her out of the whole mess unscathed, especially since she and Menma were a bonded pair. Hiashi had tried to reassure him that the bond they had was authentic, proven by Menma’s overreaction at her near escape, but he was unconvinced. Mates didn’t kidnap each other.

He looked around the room, seeing various degrees of reluctance, worry and acquiescence. “…What do we do now?”

Kakashi was the first to speak. “We do what we always do before a war. We prepare.” 


	6. Chapter 6

If Madara had one undisputed trump-card, it was the fact that his intelligence network spanned every corner of Japan despite his status as a dead man. Ever since his staged death, he had spun a web of contacts and insiders in a variety of industries, helping to shape the success of his plan for the Shugetsu clan.

What he had been careless to surveil was his wakagashira’s relationship with Hinata. 

In the days following the news of the wedding, Menma had emerged as contrary as someone with his impeccable track record could be: distracted, otherwise occupied, _fond_. It was in the collective intimacy of the details. For the first time he saw him bring bentos to the office and eat them for lunch instead of paying a visit to Ichiraku’s. During meetings his gaze grew misty as if his mind had travelled elsewhere. He would catch him ending mysterious phone calls, the shadow of a smile on his lips.

By all accounts Obito was affected by the Hyuga’s charms, too. He often spoke of her casually as though they were old friends, and had even gone so far as to have her assist on some of the routine audits he oversaw for the company, justifying her visits to the office with the excuse that he was drawing on her accounting experience from her family business. What he didn’t know was that him giving her a form of responsibility was illuminating enough - he trusted her skills and held her in high enough regard to help with something he would ordinarily handle alone.

Although Obito had always been a back-up, a chess piece on his board, Menma was supposed to be his knight. He had never seemed more unfit to be his successor, he noted with irritation. Sure, he had expected some change to his personality as a result of the bond, but nothing like this, and certainly not so delayed; a mere few weeks before he had had the impression that nothing had changed apart from Menma’s smell which was cleaner now, less gritty.

How he would go about dealing with this was a matter of utmost concern. As a first step, he needed to get his wakagashira back on form before the chance to enact his grand plan crumbled away.

His phone drew his attention away from the window, out of which he had been counting the shades of grey in the clouds. 

He tilted towards it to read the text. _Your request has been confirmed._

Good. It wouldn’t be long until the stage would be set for all to see.

***

Memories from the last three or so weeks returned as Hinata watched the black hair in front of her spike above the headrest. So much had changed, and it was strange to think that where not too long ago she had been desperate to find a way out of the house, now she was on her way to her new office building, the smaller but no less shiny Shugetsu tower, to support Obito with some internal auditing.

When he had first said she would be working for the Shugetsu and moving into the house she had been incensed and felt a little sick at the idea of being a pawn in someone’s game. But those jenga blocks she had prodded at had fallen into her hands eventually, one at a time. She had refashioned the situation to suit her, adapted the way she was learning to. Obito was her friend and Menma…she could finally call Menma hers. 

“Have you started planning the wedding?”

Hinata’s brow raised, unused to Obito prompting a conversation between them. “No, I haven’t.” Using the tablet on her lap, she flipped to the next page of financial statements. “I’ve just been…busy I guess.”

She had meant to discuss the wedding preparations with Menma, but all the time they had together seemed to be spent exploring one another’s bodies, exploring how deep their unique bond rang. They had never been so inclined to hold lengthly debates, but at times it felt like they spoke even less than before, putting confidence in the physical to say what words could not.

Obito’s laugh implied he understood what was really keeping her occupied. “As long as the wedding happens in three weeks, I won’t comment on what you do in your free time.”

Hiding her burning face, she turned back to the tablet, skim-reading through authorised payments from the numerous accounts linked to the clan. Like any respectable yakuza family, funds were funnelled into a range of locations as a preventative measure; but while she found there was some similarity with what she used to do when she was working for the family business, some items were deliberately unclear - as if they were supposed to hidden even to Obito.

It was when she noticed a recurrent entry that she raised her concerns.

“Ne, Obito-san. What’s A. Investments? I’ve seen a few payments to that account, but it looks like someone has tried to hide the transactions.”

“That’s the account for the Akatsuki. We always conceal those.”

Intrigued by his clarification, she flicked further, eventually pulling up the short list of payments to the organisation going back several years. There was a payment from around twenty years prior; another from when she would have been fifteen. Huh. Didn’t Menma confirm Jiraya was murdered by Pain that same year? If he wasn’t part of the Shugetsu clan she could have almost believed the hit was ordered by the very same kumichou who—

She scrambled to find the latest payment, fingers shaking as they tapped the screen. A hundred million yen paid today, with the reference ‘NARAKA’. The same reference used in the payment to A. Investments ten years ago.

“Obito is something big happening today? Are you or Menma planning something?”

“No. Why do you ask?”

“…There was a payment to A. Investments this morning.”

“What? That’s impossible. Kumichou would have told me.”

“Look.” She pushed the tablet to the armrest by his side so he could see the accounts she was referring to. “Not only was the payment made today, but it’s the same payment reference—”

“Naraka.” Obito was painfully silent for a beat too long.

“What’s going to happen?” Hinata asked.

The sedan slowed as they reached a red light and when he turned back to her with an impassive frown, she could detect a new edge to his voice. “Take this,” he pushed a pocket knife into her hand. “Once we get into the office building I want you to stay in my office until I say so, okay? Don’t talk to anyone, don’t go anywh—”

A boom ricocheted across the road as the car burst into smoke, flying up then crashing down with the force of the explosion. 

Beyond her desperate coughs and sobs she could hear nothing but a ringing in her ears, shrill as a glass harp, as her head scrabbled to right itself. Obito was knocked out, sprawled across the driver’s seat with a river of red washing over his face and she wanted so badly to do something, anything to save him.

She tried to reach out a hand to grip his wrist, but she could find no strength to summon. Her eyes flickered out of the window she was splayed against to see two men in the midst of a vicious duel. A blue-eyed blonde with a ponytail versus a masked silver-haired man. She squinted through the pain. Was that really Kakashi-sama? What was the Senju patriarch doing here?

The smoke was getting worse, clogging up her head and putting pressure on her lungs as she coughed and coughed. Her vision blurred, and then she lost consciousness.

***

“Madara’s still alive? H-How is that possible?”

Sakura smiled slightly at Hinata’s stammer as she tended to her head wound, feeling a little nostalgic about their days in the Academy together despite the pressure of their situation. It was a wonder that she had escaped almost completely unscathed following the bomb that had gone off not too long ago, and even more extraordinary to have been under watch by Kakashi’s personal taskforce. Had Kakashi not been at the scene at the time, Deidara would have put a bullet in both Hinata and Obito’s heads.

“He never died. He faked his death, and left the Konoha Alliance to create a separate clan of his own - the Shugetsu.”

All of a sudden the pieces started to come together for Hinata. The secretive phone calls that belonged in a neo-noir film. The low number of clan members, even in the office building from the few times she had visited. The fact that she had never seen the kumichou himself.

Sakura’s smile turned sympathetic as she watched the Hyuga’s expression flit between perplexity and fear, and she tried to steer the conversation away from the Shugetsu patriarch. “I can see that you and Naruto are bonded. I guess your feelings got returned after all, huh?”

Hinata’s eyes glossed over all four corners of the room she had been taken to in the Uchiha compound, avoiding contact with those teasing green eyes. She was sure Sakura meant well, but everything about the conversation and the pinkette’s cotton-candy scent was making her feel like she was sitting on a ticking time bomb - as if she would be lurched into the air by a blast again.

Where was Menma? What would he do when he found out where she was? And why had Madara tried to have her and Obito killed?

Sensing her rising anxiety Sakura rubbed her shoulder with an affection usually shared with lifelong friends, which they perhaps could’ve been had they not lost touch for several years following her transfer to an omega-only middle school. Anxiety melting into awkwardness, Hinata shrugged her hand away, and corrected her, “He’s not Naruto-kun anymore. He’s Menma.” 

Before Sakura could formulate a response to that, a tall, lean figure draped in a loose black yukata stepped into the room. Sasuke.

“Sakura, I need a minute.”

Blushing she rose to meet him with a quick peck to his cheek, looking for pliant than she had been sat beside Hinata. Now that she was on her feet, Hinata could see the swell of her belly that had been hidden in her loose gown before. She tried to curb the baseless envy she felt for her, that silly Omega voice telling her she needed to catch up to the pink-haired medic and bear pups of her own. Then with one last smile of support aimed at Hinata she slipped out of the room. 

“…Is she your mate?” Hinata asked. From what she could see, their relationship had evolved from what it looked like in the Academy; Sasuke was still aloof, but accepting enough to let Sakura close to him. She briefly wondered what she and Menma must look similar to outsiders.

“Hn,” he confirmed.

Then it was quiet. Quiet and awkward. His Alpha scent was beginning to make her feel sick.

She didn’t let his silence linger long before beginning to make her case to the Uchiha. She cleared her throat. “Take me home. Please.”

Sasuke stared at her, cocking his head. “Why?”

She hesitated, watching him take Sakura’s vacated seat beside her on the sofa. With this proximity she could glimpse the start and end of his tattoo, a series of curling black flames that licked from one side of his neck down to the edge of his pale wrist that emerged from his kimono. The tattoo was peculiar and unlike any other yakuza member’s she could recall, but perhaps suited him and the path he had carved for himself. 

“I…think it’s for the best. So people don’t get hurt.” She took a sip of the water Sakura had left for her, trying to clear the scent of ash that had gathered at the back of her throat. It didn’t escape her notice that he and Menma both had scents that were accented with smoke. “Besides, I can’t be away from his scent for too long.”

“Hn.” One brow lifted. “Do you even know where he is?”

His patronising tone made her visibly flinch, it was sharp as a needle.

“Then I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until he comes to get you,” he continued. “With everything that’s happened, it’s too dangerous for you to go anywhere else.”

She saw his lip quirk fractionally at her pout, and she distracted herself by wiping the sweat off her brow. “Next time, tell him to scent a scarf or something for you. So you don’t get sick.”

Her heartbeat picked up in her chest. “How did you—?” Her eyes widened, going over what Orochimaru had told her. “It’s _you_. You’re the other set of true mates.”

“And the fact that you know that means Orochimaru really did help you escape that time.”

She had known that Neji had solicited Tenten’s help, but had never stopped to consider how Tenten had known about Orochimaru’s access to the sewers given how much had happened. Who knew Sasuke had been the link between the two?

She sighed. “What about the emotional side? I feel like I’m the only one affected it.”

When he raised a brow again she explained further, “Well—Menma doesn’t exactly say or do anything to make me think otherwise.”

“Have you asked him?” She shook her head, making Sasuke hum softly. “Believe me, whatever you’re feeling, he’s feeling ten times more. That’s why I know you don’t need to go anywhere. He’ll do what it takes to find you.”

She couldn’t understand what was feeding his confidence. “How do you know he’ll come?”

“He’s your true mate - he’ll find a way.”

***

It was getting dark when Menma stomped through the gates of the Uchiha compound, nothing but cold-blooded murder on his mind.

A frantic guard stepped to him, tried to slow him down. “Excuse me, you’re not allowed to just—”

Menma’s fist cut him off, and he dropped to the ground with a yelp.

“Sasuke!” he roared, “Bring her out, you bastard!”

The news of the bomb blast and botched assassination had pulled him out of a mid-afternoon meeting in a cold sweat. Immediately, he had gone on the hunt for Hinata, going straight for the first person he could think of that would be stupid and brazen enough to make an enemy of him.

“Hn. Never thought I’d see the day when you have black hair. We probably look like brothers now.”

The teme was strolling down the steps that led to the front door, looking as perpetually unaffected as he remembered. He growled, feeling that prickly Alpha anger balloon inside him, enraged that his mate had been taken from him _again_.

He spotted Sasuke’s signature sword at his hip, but showed little apprehension. 

His eyes narrowed at the Uchiha.“Give me back my mate.” 

Each word was enunciated slowly, the accompanying growl laced with threat.

Sasuke sighed as if those growls were the mere yips of a chihuahua. “Can’t you indulge me in a reunion conversation? It’s been ten years.”

“Ten years since Jiraiya was _murdered_.” Menma grit out through clenched teeth.“You knew who killed him, and you did _nothing_!”

“You and I were on different pages back then. I was chasing Danzo. You were chasing me.”

“Do you have any idea how dumb you sound?”

“Do _you_? Do you have any idea what your kumichou is planning?” The following silence gave Sasuke a much needed opportunity to continue to hammer his point home, and he tried to soften his tone with the words that came next. 

“You, me, Obito, Kakashi…we’ve all got blood on our hands. I get it. But we did what we did for the people we were meant to protect. Madara though…everything he does, he does for himself. Your loyalty means nothing to him.”

Now within arm’s distance of his friend, hard black eyes met stubborn blue. “I know you dobe, but even _you’re_ not that stupid. Akatsuki made the hit. _He_ paid for it.”

A sharp frown. “That’s impossible—”

“Funny. Apparently Obito said the same thing, and now he’s in the intensive care unit.”

“I’m sure kumichou can explain—”

“The Akatsuki don’t work for free. Hasn’t it ever crossed your mind that the person that paid them to kill Jiraiya is still out there?”

Menma hesitated, suddenly unsteady on his feet. “…What?”

“Think about it. Jiraiya was part of the Senju; why would we kill one of our best lieutenants? For Madara though, Jiraiya’s death would mean getting his hands on you.”

“You’re lying! I know you’re fucking lying, ’ttebayo!” Menma seethed, eyes flashing red.

The front door slammed open as Hinata came sprinting down the stairs in a hurry to interject as she caught the tail end of their conversation.

“Sasuke’s telling the truth,” she confirmed, pushing through the small group of circling guards that had gathered to block Menma’s path to the house. “I saw the accounts myself. Madara is the one behind everything - Jiraiya’s murder, Rin’s murder, even the attack today.”

It was subtle, but she could see how her presence calmed him in the drop of his shoulders. Perhaps Sasuke had been onto something after all.

Slowly and uncertainly, the Uzumaki looked between the man he had once called his closest friend and the woman he had chosen to stand by his side. “He said—he said that making a world of dreams was the only way—”

“A world of dreams? What does that even mean?” Sasuke scoffed.

“A perfect world without wars between the yakuza families. A single—”

“-Alliance. He wants to create one giant yakuza family to help him rule over Japan.” For a while it seemed like Sasuke would say nothing more after he shared his deduction. “You realise it won’t bring him back, right? Take it from me. It won’t stop the wars, the fighting, the blood. It’ll just make him stronger, and you a monster.”

It was like they were tearing apart all he had tried to sew together. 

“All my life I’ve been on my own.” Menma began, “All the people who I thought were family abandoned me: Pervy Sage, you…” he trailed off as he glanced at Hinata. “Madara was the only one who was there to pick me up when everything went to shit.”

“That’s not true! All those people and more are beside you now, have always been there for you!”, Hinata encouraged, “Can’t you see? This is what he wants - he wants you to turn away from everyone apart from him so he can use you!”

Her words seemed to be the tipping point. From the pinch of his eyes Hinata could tell he was hurt in the face of their evidence, sure. But more than anything his expression was set in merciless fury, intent on sending Madara to hell in a million different ways.

“… _Fuck_.”

“Yeah, dobe. Fuck.”

He looked to his mate, scratched the back of his head absentmindedly in a way that reminded Hinata of his younger self. “Hinata. Let’s go home.”

“And then what? You try not to get assassinated by—?”

With a screech of tires, a black SUV tore through the Uchiha gates with a convoy of sedans following suit. Sasuke barely had a moment to catch his sentence before he spotted the edge of a barrel peeking out of one of the windows.

“Gun!”

Menma shoved Hinata to the safety of a nearby bush, flinging himself away from the arsenal of bullets that rained down around them. Fuck. He had been so consumed in the conversation he had completely forgotten himself, where he was and the ever-present risk of ambush. 

As the gunshots slowed, then ceased, he heard the crunch of shoes against gravel, and hurried to join Sasuke on his feet.

“How unfortunate. I hoped it wouldn’t come to this.”

Agast, Menma looked up to see Madara himself swoop in and press a gun against Hinata’s head, other arm secured around her neck. Around them, various suited henchmen sprang forth from the cars that had gatecrashed the compound, guns cocked at any guards who had the guts to intervene. He tried to free his voice from where it had caught in his throat - what the fuck was going on?! 

“Kumichou!”

“I warned you that you were getting too attached. I warned you and yet you still compromised the entire clan.” Madara’s voice held the same confident calm as always. “From where I’m standing, I’m not the reason why she has to die. _You_ are.” 

Sasuke looked between the two of them, eyes narrowing as he glanced between the Hinata’s trembling form as she struggled against Madara’s hold and the armed reinforcements that had suddenly began to step out of their cars into formation. This was not good. Not good at all. He needed to buy some more time…

“How did you know she was here?” The younger Uchiha stepped towards Madara. “…How can you say you want to make a world without needless bloodshed when that very same world is built on blood?” he argued, hoping to draw his attention away from his hand as it inched towards the gun he usually hid behind his sword—

“One wrong move and I’ll put a hole in her head.” he laughed smugly at the hardness in Sasuke and Menma’s shoulders, pleased they both understood the seriousness of his threat. “Finding her was easy, I just had to follow my doting wakagashira.” He laughed bitterly. “It’s a shame I’m going to have to put an end to things like this - I can see your bond with her is strong.”

Menma instantly broke free of whatever hold Madara’s entrance had placed on him. “Don’t you fucking touch her!”

Madara tutted at them both, disappointed at their feeble antics. “The time has come for Konoha to make way for the Shugetsu. Out with the old, in with the new. I can’t let you stall us any longer.”

Hinata pressed her eyes closed, trying to ignore the feeling of cold metal on the side of her temple. Obito had walked her through this scenario once before in one of their sparring sessions, told her that she needed to redirect the gun towards the attacker and strike him while he was off guard. 

When she opened her eyes she saw Menma, livid and afraid, caught between ripping Madara’s throat out and begging on his knees. If something didn’t give, Madara and his posse could easily kill all of them in the blink of an eye. 

She knew he would underestimate her, though. Obito in his infinite Omega wisdom had warned her that Alphas always did. She fingered the knife her friend had given her, the one she’d hidden up her dress just in case.

Menma saw her hand craftily draw toward her hip, and his eyes glittered with anticipation. “You’re a dead man Madara.” Menma promised then, voice thick with hatred.

Madara laughed long and hard. “Not as dead as your little girlf—”

In a movement so fluid she surprised him, Hinata wrapped her hand around the gun, ducked under Madara’s arm and flipped it to point at his chest, ending her sequence with a deep stab below his ribs that served to buckle his knees.

To which Madara could only manage: “What..the hell?”

Before he could properly fathom what had happened he wailed in agony, feeling the agonising shock of thirty thousand volts rip through him. Shikamaru stepped out from behind him, taser in hand.

Madara lasted about five seconds before he slumped against the floor, but no one, not even the Shugetsu henchmen, moved for a further minute afterward, half-expecting him to rise from the dead like the stubborn zombie he was.

“I see I made it just in time.”

Then he raised his palm, and dozens of red dots pimpled the Shugetsu attackers’ chests, threatening to dismantle them if they made the slightest jitter. “Oi, oi. Don’t fucking move you Shugetsu brats.” 

Menma let out a low whistle, unable to hide his marvel at Shikamaru’s intellect. To think he had been waiting the whole time for Madara to show himself, just so he could take out the Shugetsu forces in one fell swoop… 

“…So it really is you.” The Nara lit a cigarette, then blew a cloud of smoke into the air with a wry smile. “Well? Are you ready to be with us or against us?”

Menma considered his options. He could fight the way he had been doing so far, sending punches, kicks and bullets at anyone in his way. But he was no Superman, and the likelihood of making it out alive was almost exactly zero. Shikamaru had got him good. 

Worse, a part of him remembered that things weren’t the same as before. Now, he had people to protect. People who were relying on him.

He looked to Hinata who had tiptoed to his side, and bit the inside of his cheek. He kept his gaze on her as he replied, “She’s with me.”

Shikamaru’s eyes widened slightly, then he smiled slightly. “Works for me.”

His palm dropped.

The bodies jerked as bullets pierced them from afar, decimating the infiltrators that had crept into the compound in the midst of the chaos. 

Then, silence.

Sasuke gave Menma a subtle prob with his elbow.

“Dobe.” he called, his gun offered in his hand. “You want to do the honours?”

It wasn’t too late to hand him over to the authorities, Menma knew. They could call in the police, get him thrown in jail, talk to Tsunade to make sure he would never get out.

But Menma couldn’t give him up. Not after Jiraiya. Not after Obito. Definitely not after Hinata.

He looked at Sasuke, feeling the closeness he’d tried to throw away so long ago materialise between them. They really were brothers. It was the only way to explain why he could understand Sasuke’s need for revenge, and trust that Sasuke would understand his own treacherous actions in turn.

He took the gun, pivoting Hinata towards Sasuke to block her view. “Hinata. Look away.”

Sasuke covered her eyes.

He walked to stand over Madara’s form. Pushed at his limp side with a well-shined brogue so he could see that pale, stern face twitch as it rolled over. Then he pulled the trigger. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) I did say Shikamaru was one of my all time favourite characters! Final chapter going up in a few hours.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for supporting this fic! Here's a sugary sweet ending to complete this short story.

It had been over a week since they had avoided a yakuza war. Eliminated the threat that Madara and the associated Shugetsu clan posed. So why did he feel so uncertain?

Kakashi had watched Obito and Menma banter about hospital food with an envy he struggled to suppress. The certainty of their match had always been there, but something had always cropped up to separate them, whether that be Kakashi’s immature distancing when they were training together, or Obito’s departure when Kakashi had sacrificed Rin, their closest companion. 

Although he had surmised that the two maintained a sibling-like relationship, the instincts brought on by his designation made his nails bite into his palms, irritated that Obito was receiving attention from another Alpha that was not him. 

He heard Obito clear his throat. “Oi. He’s gone already, there’s no need for any of that growling.”

Kakashi flushed, unaware that he’d been acting outwardly possessive. Adjusting the edge of his mask in shame and avoiding Obito’s quizzical gaze, he turned the conversation to an explanation of how he had tracked down their car and foiled the assassination attempt.

“After your attack on the Hyugas, Shikamaru and I agreed we needed to move quickly before you guys did something stupid,” he clarified. “We agreed that I would follow you and Hinata, and Shikamaru would follow the money.”

Obito nodded in understanding, curling his fingers around the cream hospital blanket. “I see. So you knew about the Akatsuki payments before you found the tablet.”

“Right; Shikamaru confirmed he was the one behind Jiraiya’s murder and our…ambush. But the tablet gave us more information. Undeniable proof of the connections Madara had in nearly every industry you can think of. Politics, agriculture, financial services…the list goes on. If his plan worked he would have more or less ruled Japan.”

Obito ignored the reference to the incident between himself, Kakashi and Rin. “…So what happens now?”

“Well, the Shugetsu family still carries a lot of weight. And even with Madara out of the way, you and Naruto..er…Menma can’t exactly just come right back to the Senju or Uchiha. Too much has happened.”

“So you’re letting him stay in the Shugetsu?” Obito guessed.

“Yeah.” Kakashi nodded. “He can become the kumichou as planned, and the Shugetsu can join the Konoha alliance.”

Obito's fingers flexed against the hospital blanket as if stretching before a spar. “That’s it? What about me? Where do I fit in all of this?”

“Where do you _want_ to fit in?”

“Huh?” Obito asked, eloquently.

“Do you want to keep your role with the Shugetsu or do you want to try…with me?”

Obito blinked, waiting for the punchline. “You’re not joking.” Obito’s delayed response revealed all his stupefaction. He thought back on what Hinata had told him, about how the why always mattered. Tch. “You never even told me why.”

“Why what?”

Obito’s shout was just short of a bellow. “Why you killed her!”

He watched Kakashi eyes droop closed, his question echoing around the hospital room. “She asked me to.” 

“Bullshit.”

Kakashi’s mask wrinkled with his grimace, thinking back on the day he had tried to put out of his memory time and time again. “At the time I had two choices - follow their orders to kill her, buy us some more time, get out of the restraints and get my hands on a gun, or sit there as they killed as all of us.”

He paused in his story, thinking, then slipped his mask down to his neck with a sigh, revealing his naked expression to Obito in all its torment. He looked into his eyes, leaning closer to the cot. “What I did was painful, and believe me I have spent years agonising over my decision. But it was necessary, and she agreed. The last thing she said before I pulled the trigger was ‘Thank you’. There’s no way I’d forget that.”

Obito swallowed, in that moment feeling Kakashi’s intensity more than anything he had before. His scent was still as fresh as it had been the last time he had seen him, a refreshing peppermint. He shook the Omega thoughts away to ask in a whisper, “If that’s true then why didn’t you tell anyone that? Why the hell are you telling me this now? After all this time?”

“People don’t deserve to know that she thanked me for killing her.”

All at once, the past twenty years felt very different. While he had been enraged, needing to distance himself from the source of his rage, Kakashi had been shouldering a boulder of guilt alone. 

The why _did_ matter, he knew. Though it did not fix everything that had gone so wrong, it was a preliminary bridge towards a better future.

Obito fingers drifted to meet Kakashi’s over the blanket, and when they curled into each other he tried not to let the butterflies he felt in his gut make him jump to conclusions. Pointing out what had always been there - between them - was easy. The true test would be navigating all the hurdles that were sure to come their way.

***

The teasing tenderness of his smile was a measure of all that had changed between them. He felt Hinata tug at a lock of dark hair that hung by his chin.

“Oh!”

At his questioning sideways glance she added, “I think you have some blonde hair coming in at the roots.”

In a distant time the sunshine hue of his hair had bolstered his charisma, his ability to own a room before he even stepped in. Looking at Hinata, he felt something more vast: a kind of radiance that never seemed to run out. 

Menma was happy. It was the kind of happiness that stuck to his ribs like a big bowl of tonkotsu ramen, and would not abate.

_“Naruto.”_

_He looked up at his mentor’s giant figure, startled by his serious tone. He never called him Naruto anymore. Kid, sometimes. Idiot, often. But never Naruto._

_“Naruto,” he started again, voice muffled by the heavy rain outside the restaurant they were seated inside. “Who are you doing all this for?”_

_The question felt a little out of the blue, and he sat a little straighter in the booth. “What do you mean?”_

_Jiraiya scratched his temple with a wide finger. “In the yakuza you either play attack or defence. But you’re no fighter, not like that Uchiha friend of yours. So why are you here, training with me?”_

_He had always wanted to be the Konoha alliance head, to make Tokyo a better place. But he had never thought about the yakuza in such crude terms before. Attack or defence. He supposed Jiraiya was right, he was not the type to enjoy looking for a fight; but he wasn’t exactly looking to protect anyone either._

_But Sasuke’s face flashed behind his eyes. Then Sakura’s. Iruka. Jiraiya. Kakashi. Tsunade. A beautiful smiling girl on the playground swings outside the Academy with black hair that glinted blue in the late afternoon sun._

_Hinata. Even now, almost five years later his throat grew tight thinking about her. Where was she now? He looked down at his palm, folding it into a tight fist. If he could meet her again one day, he would want to protect her._

_His head snapped up when he heard Jiraiya laugh so heartily his long hair bristled against his back. “Don’t hurt your head thinking so hard, kid.” His mentor lightly pat his head the way he imagined a father might do to his son. “I can see it clear as day. You’ve already chosen someone to defend.”_

_Naruto blinked. Jiraiya always surprised him like that, going from careless pervert to telepath to surface level jokester in the blink of an eye._

Menma blinked the sudden memory away and took Hinata’s hand over the console.“Let’s eat out for dinner. I wanna take you somewhere.”

“Ichiraku’s?”

A short, shocked laugh caressed her ears. “How did you know?”Hinata giggled mysteriously into her shoulder. 

He could tell she was happy, too. The kind of happiness that made her small fingers fold tighter against his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Currently considering doing a few spinoffs for this one as I'm loving the Yakuzaverse. Particularly for Sakura and Sasuke. No promises yet though...

**Author's Note:**

> FYI - The classroom vignette is heavily inspired by the doujinshi Omega Nanka Janai.


End file.
